Æternus Praestolatio
by bluelotusflower
Summary: Brought to an Alternate Reality where Voldemort died years ago, Harry Potter has to cope with, yet again, being expected to save the world. The problem is, he failed the last time he tried. DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

**Æternus Praestolatio**

**By blazingfirewolf**

I've gone over the chapters I wrote and revised them a bit, so now there are less mistakes and such (at least, I hope so). I've also changed a few minor lines and put a couple of new paragraphs in, and fleshed out my Slytherin characters so that they don't resemble cardboard cut-outs anymore. And I've taken out the early Author's notes, because they're not needed.

**Summary: **Brought to an alternate reality where Voldemort died years ago, Harry Potter has to cope with, yet again, being expected to save the world. Problem is, he failed the last time he tried. Slash friendly.

**Rating: **R, and with the new ratings that's M. I think it's a pretty low R, though.

**Disclaimer: **This is for all chapters, because I think it's a waste of time and words to put it on all. None of Harry Potter was mine, none of it is mine, none of it will ever be mine (except for Allison). It all belongs to J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Press.

Oh, and one last thing. Though there will be both Slash and Het in this fic, Harry from Canon will not be involved in any romantic relationships. Now let's get on with this, shall we?

_There shall come a day, three summers from the Kalaverael,_

_Where the Decagon shall bind their magick,_

_And use the Sacred Mirror to bring The Redeemer into this world._

_He shall cease the fighting between the Snakes and the Lions,_

_And He shall bring about the unity of the Sorcerer School,_

_And He shall argue with the heavens,_

_And bespeak with demons,_

_And bring peace into the magus world._

– Sacred prophecy of the sorcerer scroll, 1209AD.

**Prologue: 31st July, 2005 **

**Old World**

I stared at my haunted green eyes in the mirror of my cell.

I had a lot in common with the mirror, really. We were both dirty. We were both never going to see the outside world again. We were both broken, nothing a simple _reparo _could ever fix.

Not a nice thing for a guy in his mid-twenties to think, but then, I'd always been different. In fact, being stuck in Azkaban and tortured mentally and physically was the most normal thing that had ever happened to me. It wasn't like I was getting special treatment. It happened to _everyone _these days.

Ever since the end of sixth year, Voldemort had reigned supreme. It had been simple really – just kill off Albus Dumbledore and the whole side of light had fallen. And this time, it _had _been my fault. Voldermort may have dealt the killing blow, but it had been _my _stupidity, _my _reckless abandon of the rules and _my _eagerness to fight that had really destroyed him.

I'd thought that with all the special training I'd been doing that year I'd easily be able to defeat the most powerful Dark Lord since Salazar Slytherin himself. Learning how to transfigure echidna's into houses would really help kill those death eaters – I'd always wanted to plagiarize Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz. All those extra lessons on curses had really got me stronger, never mind that I was forbidden to learn "dark magic" and had to stick to leg-locker curses and stupefies.

I'd ended up not learning Occlumency that year, but _hey, _Snape's a git, no one would want to learn from him anyway and I'm sure we'll never need to use it. I never bothered with potions either – they were for the slimy Slytherins to make. Often they'd save your life or reveal an enemy who'd been spying on you, but none of the Snakes ever got any recognition. Of course they didn't. They were _Slytherins. _

After Albus died, the people had looked to me to solve their problem. I couldn't, of course. Voldermort knew this. Snape knew this. Gradually, everyone grew to realise it. I wasn't some mystical savior who would come down from the heavens and bring Death upon the world's evils. I was just a scared little boy pining for his mentor, and finally realising that just because a prophecy says something, it doesn't mean it will automatically come true.

Unfortunately, by then it was too late. Voldemort had erected a visible barrier strong enough to block Britain from the rest of the world, stop apparition and flooing cross-continent, and disable all forms of muggle communication. It didn't really matter that the muggles figured out something wasn't right. The Dark Lord had no fear anymore, especially since he was infused with Dumbledore's power after killing him.

Hogwarts was one of the first places to fall, and after that, everything else came swiftly after. I honestly don't know how I survived the siege _and _got away, but I'm pretty sure it involved blind, dumb luck. Oh, and the Potions master. Hah. Snape saves me yet again. At least this time I thanked him.

We tried to rally the people, but the people didn't want to be rallied. Most of them were too scared to leave their homes, let alone oppose the most powerful wizard in Britain. Probably the world, too.

All families who fought against Voldemort and lived in a permanent house died. After losing Ron and Ginny to the siege, the Weasleys, already immersed in the battle to begin with, lost all reservations. Arthur blew up the ministry building so Voldemort couldn't find anything to aid him in the war. Bill introduced ancient curses the used in ancient Egyptian pyramids. Charlie brought the few dragons in Britain to aid in the cause. The twins studied muggle and magical weaponry and merged the two. Molly organised, planned, and did everything no one else had time to do, like cooking and keeping everyone clothed.

It was to no avail, however. One night two months after the siege, Voldermort showed up at the Burrow, bypassed the considerable wards as if they were annoying flies and entered. All the Weasley except Bill and Fred perished; Bill because he was checking to see if all the deterrents at Gringotts vault were still up and running, and Fred because he was putting the finishing touches on a magical gun that he and his twin had made.

Percy died screaming defiance at Voldermort and trying to protect his family. Ends up he'd been playing spy since Snape was found out, and had been underlining the Dark Lord every time he could. The sight of his family about to die, however, brought about instincts that had been buried deep in him for years.

Turns out he was a Gryffindor all along.

I joined The Viper's Poison about a month after that; a guerilla group dedicated to making Voldermort's reign as uncomfortable as possible. And that's where I stayed for almost seven years, until I made yet another stupid mistake, and this time Snape wasn't around to save me. I ended up in a cell of Azkaban, Voldy's secret getaway palace. And once the Death Eaters had looked under the grime and mud all over my body and realised exactly _who _I was, everyone had given me their _full _attention.

Including the Dementors. I could feel them now, just around a corner where I couldn't quite see. And now that I'd been out and about in the world, I saw a _lot _more things than just my parents dying.

I don't know why Voldermort hadn't killed me yet. I mean, sure, it must be enjoyable for him to torture the person prophesied to defeat him, but why did he keep me alive afterwards? Maybe he was saving me for when he'd had a bad day and needed some cheering up.

I hope he has a bad day soon. I don't have the courage to kill myself, but I still want to die.

000

I slid down in the far corner of my cell, not really caring that I was scraping my bare back against the chipped stone wall. After you've been injured as much as I've been, little flares of pain hardly matter.

The Dementors were leaving, which wasn't such a good sign. It meant that the Death Eaters were about to come.

Stupid name, Death Eaters. How can you eat death? Why would you want to? If you did, would that make you dead? That didn't seem like something Moldy Voldy would want. Moldy Voldy? Where did that come from? Sounds funny though. Moldy Voldy. Voldy Moldy Soldy Toldy. Hah.

I realised I was rambling, but I didn't really care. I had a fever. That gave me a definite right to ramble.

I heard footsteps, the echoing ring of metal boots hitting stone. The Death Eaters liked metal. They thought it made them look evil and mysterious. I liked the way it made lightning follow them around.

The footsteps stopped at my cell, as I'd known they would. I didn't look up, though.

"Well, isn't it nice to see the Boy Who Lived brought down so low." I bit my lip, and absently noted the metallic taste of blood. Damn. It was Bellatrix. Along with Rosier, she hit the hardest.

I really couldn't be fucked to play the little game they had with me, though. I was too tired, and I hurt too much, and the fever wasn't helping either.

"This is all getting very old, Bella. You and your friends have been saying variations of that line for all of the time I've been here. How about we cut the talk and get to the torture already? Time is precious, don't ya know. Maybe we could save some."

The cell bars slid open, and footsteps came closer. I didn't bother bracing myself. I'd already learnt that if you were tense, the pain was worse.

To my dull surprise there was no pain, just a hand forcing my face upwards. I looked up into Lestrange's endless blue eyes, glinting with hatred. My own face was a mask of neutrality, something I had perfected over the years. It had kept me safe in endless circumstances.

"I'd be only too glad to test my new playtoys on you at the moment," Bellatrix whispered furiously. "Unfortunately, the Dark Lord requires your presence. I believe he wishes to give you a birthday gift. Now get up."

I stood slowly, and waited a few seconds for my head to clear and the blackness clouding my eyes to dissipate. Then I shuffled after Bellatrix, who was already at the bars of my cell tapping her foot impatiently. She really should have morbilicorpus'd me like the other Death Eaters did when I was going to visit Voldemort, but she wanted me to suffer more than most. Sadistic murderer.

Was it really my birthday? That meant I'd been at Azkaban for six months. Six months! It seemed like a lifetime. I certainly felt like an old man, not the twenty-five-year-old I was apparently supposed to be. Of course it didn't help that the Dementors seemed to almost exclusively prey on me, and between them the Death Eaters came and made their mark. Hah, mark. That was a joke, almost. Too bad I was out of my rambling mood.

Lestrange strode down the hallways, me trailing along behind her. Faces stared at me from inside their cells; aurors, resistance fighters and people who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were no encouraging words for me, no kind looks, not even nods of acknowledgment. They just stared at me, some with despair and some with anger.

I had been their savior. I had promised them so much. I had let them down.

Eventually we came out of the halls of cells and entered a large cavern. I looked slightly hopefully at all the Death Eaters clustered around a throne, their master upon it. Maybe Voldermort had had a bad day.

Bellatrix got tired of waiting for me and grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the gathering. "I've brought him, master!" she called out.

Voldemort's voice was sibilant and soft, but it carried across the room. "Very good, Bella. Bring him here."

I made sure my mental walls were up at full power, and was relieved that they were. Voldemort may have everything else, but he would never again read into my mind and give me visions.

I was thrown into the gathering by Bellatrix, bumping into people who snarled and pushed me closer to Voldemort. Then I was in front of him, his cold red eyes appraising me silently.

Eventually he smiled. It sent shivers up my spine and I prayed I'd never have to see it again.

"Harry Potter. How pleasant to see you."

"I regret to inform that the feeling is not mutual."

The two of us had had seven previous visits since my incarceration in the prison. I was no longer quite as afraid of the snake-eyed bastard as I had been before, and had got to know a few of his quirks. When he was angry, his eyes would flicker from side to side as though looking for someone to blame. When he was confused, he would look all knowing and solemn. When he had something very unpleasant coming up for me, he would be smirking.

I'm sure you can guess which of those emotions he was displaying at this time.

"I understand today is your birthday, Potter," he hissed.

"I wasn't aware. You know what they say, time flies when you're having–"

"Master, please, please may I hurt him first?" It was Pettigrew, I realised. My eyes narrowed. Lying, cheating, betraying rat.

Voldemort's eyes swivelled to Wormtail, who gulped audibly. "Everyone will get a go, Wormtail. You should never be too greedy. _Crucio!_"

We watched the rat plead and scream for mercy in silence, although I had to hide my grin. I'd really changed from the boy who had let him go all those years ago.

After a few minutes the curse was lifted, and Pettigrew sniveled his way back into the circle. Voldemort's gaze turned to rest on me.

"As I was about to say, since it is your birthday, I would like to bestow upon you a present."

My lip quirked in a parody of amusement. "How about you give me back my animagus form, then? I'd be mighty grateful. I might even wait a few minutes before escaping." I felt the ever-familiar pang of loneliness that thinking of my animagus – my other half – alwaysbrought about.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, though you could hardly make it out with those slits he calls eyes. "You must learn to be subservient, boy." Inwardly I scoffed; I was hardly a boy. "Maybe my gift will show you how." He then looked out at all the people around him. "My loyal Death Eaters, to mark this joyous occasion, I give to you Harry Potter."

The Death Eaters cheered, and Voldermort looked along indulgently like a generous father. My heart started to lift. Maybe I _would _die today.

"There are two terms. He shall not be killed. He shall not be raped. Other than that, you may do with him what you wish."

As curses and knives flew through the air, I curled up in a ball and tried to stay as small as possible. Things like this had happened before, but always the Death Eaters came separately, or in groups of two or three. There would be no rest, no time to recuperate. I would more than likely be irreparably damaged.

It took an infinitely long time to finish. At one stage Bellatrix was banging my head into the ground over and over, screaming about how I killed her husband. Keleria and Macnair had taken a leg each; the latter twisting it so the bones snapped and the former using a steel carving knife to create patterns. Wormtail was jumping on my stomach, grinning maliciously whenever he heard a snap. My arms had been magically super-glued to the ground, and every few minutes someone would levitate me around. In the background were people casting endless curses, many much more creative than the cruciatious.

At the start I tried not to scream, but it was a lost cause. I only screamed though; I didn't beg or plead for mercy. I still had remnants of my pride.

The torture eventually stopped, but the pain didn't. I was swimming in it; lost in the sensations and angry at being so powerless. I barely noticed Voldemort saying something about obedience, but I did manage to spit blood in Lestrange's face when she leaned over me. It was quite an achievement, as I was looking through water-filled eyes and seeing double.

I was dragged back along the corridors, bringing about a fresh round of screams at the mistreatment of my already severely damaged arms. I was then unceremoniously dumped inside my cell, and told by a sulking Avery that a healer would visit me tomorrow.

I laughed weakly after he'd gone, the kind of laugh Sirius had used when the Rat blew up the street of Muggles. I felt like I should be dead, and I didn't think I could wait for the healer to come tomorrow. Vicious Torture and incomplete healing by sullen Death Eaters. Torture and healing. My life.

I was contemplating the inconsistencies of this when a dot of blue light appeared in front of my vision. I watched with interest as it grew bigger, secure in my knowledge that I was hallucinating. It was a certainty with all the pain I was going through, and I could feel I was on the edge of unconsciousness. Maybe death, too.

Green and Purple sparks started flashing around the ever growing circle and the blue started to take a transparent quality. Mentally I patted myself on the back. That was quite good work my mind was doing, especially since Bella had just recently been destroying those precious brain cells.

Soon the circle was about three feet in Diameter, and misty figures appeared in it. By now my eyes were drooping and I knew it would be seconds before I lost consciousness. I think the pain in my body was overloading my brain. As if sensing this, the figures became sharply visible.

I gasped quietly, astonished. Through the circle were people I had once known, people who were now definitely dead. Sirius,Minerva, Albus_...Remus_. There were a few other people too – most I remembered from my school days. And right in the middle with a determined expression on her face, wasmy mother.

Suddenly everything became clear, and I laughed, giddy. I was dying. Finally.

"I'm coming," I whispered, grinning. I reached out my arm to touch the circle, and didn't even care when I was sucked into it. I was free, and floating, and right now, unconscious.

000

The title roughly means "Eternal Expectations", in Latin. In case you were wondering.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: August 5th, 1997 **

**New World**

Severus Snape leaned against the wall of the heavily warded room, taking in everything around him with a fixed sneer on his face. He was dressed in his usual black, and his hair was as greasy as ever, making him look out of place and a little ill against the peeling green walls. In his hands was a little ceramic pot, with the end of a brush poking out the top.

Unlike the others in the room, Snape thoroughly opposed what they were about to attempt. He had argued with the Headmaster about it, but had lost, of course. No one could win an argument against Albus.

The room was quite small, and with ten people inside it was uncomfortably cramped. Really, Albus surely hadn't had to invite _all _those people. The mutt, for one, could surely take a hike; he had the magical ability of a squashed slug. Less, actually. At least squashed slugs could be used for potion ingredients.

"Severus!" Snape winced and turned to the left where Matthew Zabibi stood. The elder brother of Blaise, he couldn't be more different from his Slytherin sister. _Black might just have competition on my hate list, _Snape thought absently. _Zabini could definitely give Lockheart a run for his money. _

Sighing inwardly, Severus raised an elegant eyebrow at the man. "What can I do for you, Zabini?" he asked, his tone making it clear that help was the last thing he wanted to give.

Matthew grinned, oblivious to the distaste Snape was projecting. "Well, I was flicking through 'Most Potente Potions', _you _know how it is. And anyway, I saw a picture of _you _it it! Isn't that just _marvelous?"_

Snape ground his teeth together. Zabini had to be the most inept Potions "expert" he'd ever seen. He had no idea how the man had completed his mastery, but he assumed it involved a lot of bribery and improvement spells when the judges weren't looking. And now that he'd gotit, he was always harassing Severus over every little thing, and Snape had started suspecting that Matthew was maybe trying to _seduce _him!

"Yes. Marvelous." Snape looked around the room slightly desperately, and inspiration struck. He grinned maliciously, then wiped the smile off his face and leaned toward Zabini. "Oh, look!" he whispered sickeningly. "There's Auror Extrordinaire Sirius Black!" It was nauseating to talk about the mutt like that, but sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Zabini whirled around, and when he saw Black his eyes got a slightly glazed look about them. "Sorry Sev... got to go... speak to you later..." he said, and almost staggered away. Severus snorted; Matthew might have a "thing" for him, but he showed passionate lust whenever faced with Sirius Black. No doubt about it, this was one thing he definitely didn't mind Black having over him.

The other people in the room weren't nearly as infuriating as those too, but most were still very irritating. The werewolf was talking to Alastor Moody, who only had one of his eyes on Lupin. The other was swivelling around, making sure that no one who wasn't meant to be there had come in. Moody was a paranoid bastard, but it was better to be paranoid than dead.

Filius Flitwick and Yvonne Sprout were conversing together near them, no doubt twittering about how exciting everything was. Severus should really join them, but he didn't think he could take their insane rabble. Not that they could bare his cutting sarcasm any better.

Standing in the middle, checking everything was right with the mirror, was Lily Evans. Snape's eyes softened imperceptibly; Lily and he had become friends of sorts after school, and he had been the first person she'd come to after her divorce with Potter.

Close to Snape were Minerva and Albus, talking about the specifics of the plan. Minerva was plainly agitated, checking over things repeatedly, even though everything had been decided months ago. Dumbledore, in contrast, was completely calm, his eyes twinkling as he listened to his Deputy.

"Now now, Minerva, no need to worry. We've all reviewed the prophecy extensively, and everything seems clear. This should go exactly as we want it too."

"Yes, but–"

"And now, I think, it is time to proceed."

Severus straightened, his lips tightening subconsciously. The cold foreboding was back again, worse than before. He just _knew _this wasn't going to go to plan. Something would go wrong and everything would be infinitely worse than it was now.

"If I could have your attention?" Albus said pleasantly to the room in general. The noise died down as everyone turned to their Commander, expectation and excitement in most expressions. They'd been preparing for this moment for over a year now, and it was finally time to put their theories into practice.

"Thank you. Now, for the last time I must warn you that whatever the outcome of this experiment, absolutely _no _information shall reach ears other that these, with the exception of Poppy Pomfrey. It is absolutely imperative that you follow these instructions, and the consequences shall be most severe if you do not." Albus was absolutely serious, and there wasn't a person – except perhaps Zabini – who believed he wouldn't follow through with his threat.

He turned to Snape then, and gestured. "The paste, if you please, Severus?" The Potions Master nodded and stepped forward, the ceramic pot held tightly in front of him. Black would _love _it if he dropped it now.

Kneeling in front of the mirror, Snape placed the pot down and wrapped his fingers around the brush top. He looked up at Albus inquisitively.

"Go on, Severus. You know what to do."

Snape nodded, then took a deep breath and gathered his magical energy. This would be the hardest part in the ritual, and he wanted to be certain that he was doing it right. Channeling his own magic into something not his wand was hard enough, and he was channeling the magic of himself and nine other mages into a potion. It would need his full concentration.

He felt power fill the air as the other witches and wizards drew out their magic, magic that was slowly heading toward him. Snape closed his eyes and pictured a golden thread coming from his mind to the paste. He had to imagine some sort of connection, or else the magic would just keep building up in his head until he overloaded and exploded. _Not _something he wanted to contemplate.

Minerva's magic was the first to reach him, and Severus realised with a curse that his Occlumency mind shields were still up. He let them down hastily, and the magic entered him.

It was a heady rush, but Snape had experienced in before and let it flow through him, into the potion. The other magic came quickly, and Severus repeated the action.

When all nine had given their magic to him, Snape let go of his own. Then he broke the connection, shakily stood up with the pot in his hands, and handed it to a waiting Lily Evans.

"Your turn, Lily," he murmured, then staggered through the people to the edge of the room. He slid down the wall when he reached it, fighting the battle for consciousness and just winning. Snape took a few deep breaths, and tried to look some semblance of normal. It was rather hard, considering that he was slouching against the wall, had lost his height intimidation and couldn't even find the energy to pull off an arrogant sneer.

Eventually he looked over at Lily, who was kneeling in the same position he had been and was spreading the potion across the mirror, making it shine a bright blue colour. So far, everything was going to plan. But something was going to go wrong soon. Snape could feel it, vibrating in the air, tickling at the back of his mind like an itch he couldn't scratch.

The prophecy didn't make sense. It spoke of some god-like creature that would come and settle everything, but Severus knew that, if gods even existed, they wouldn't come into the human world to fix things. They obviously liked suffering too much.

But as always, Snape's thoughts were never taken into account. Everyone was enraptured at the idea of calling someone to make the wizarding world a better place. They didn't seem to realise that if the being had the power to _save _the world, he would also have the power to destroy it beyond recognition.

It was a stupid prophecy anyway, Severus decided. If you were a prophet, why would you need all those words to get your message across? It sounded like something you would hear in those charmed lockets that were all the rage these days. Cheap and tawdry.

Having finished spreading the potion, Lily stepped back. She spoke to Albus.

"What happens now?"

The Commander looked at her gravely. "Now, my dear, we wait."

Everyone stared at the mirror, watching the blue get brighter and brighter. People started coming forward to get a better look, forming a semicircle around the object, with Lily in the middle.

Snape stayed where he was. Everyone else could go close to the unstable magic mirror; he'd rather take his chances in a room full of raging Gryffindors. Who knew what would happen when the "Redeemer" came out?

The mirror started flashing green and purple sparks, and some of the smarter people started to edge away. Seeing Lily still right in front of the object, Snape sighed and called out. "Lily! You might want to get away from there – unless you _like _risking your life?"

The Battle-Charms teacher turned and gave Snape a glare. "Severus, I'm sure it's perfectly safe. I designed this process, and I'm going to see it through."

The mutt smirked at Severus. "Yeah, Snape. Stop trying to rule Lils' life."

Lily turned her glare on Black. "You shut up too, Sirius. Honestly, stop acting like a child!"

"Black would give infancy a bad name," Snape muttered.

There was a huge zapping noise, and the group's gaze flew back to the mirror. It was now vibrating slightly, and shining so brightly that you could hardly look at it.

There was another fizz of sound, and another, and another, and then it was buzzing continuously, slowly getting louder. Lily and Dumbledore were the only calm ones at that point; everyone else was verging on panic.

The light started spiraling in an anticlockwise motion, then –

"Look, there's a person!" Lupin needn't have pointed out the obvious, but he was correct. Inside the mirror was a patch of darkness in the shape of a figure, getting closer. It seemed to be lying down, instead of walking towards them, which Snape thought a touch off. Why would an all-powerful being give a show of weakness?

All the buzzing was starting to hurt Severus' head, and the light making his eyes water. He closed them, and so when there was a blinding flash of light he was the only one who didn't cry out.

He heard the others do so, however, and snapped his eyes open. Everyone was clutching their heads in agony, but that wasn't what he focused on. For lying face-down right near the mirror was a severely mauled, dirty, naked man.

Severus gaped for a moment, then levered himself off the ground and walked forward. Some of the others were starting to get their vision back too, and gathered around the man.

Snape knelt down next to him, almost gagging as the combined smell of blood, urine and body odor.

"What are you doing?" the werewolf enquired.

Severus sneered. "What do _you _think, Lupin? I'm checking if he's dead." He put one hand on the body's wrist, and the other on the neck. Through the half-dried blood a slow but steady pulse beat softly.

"He's alive, but he needs medical attention. We have to get him to Pomfrey."

Moody looked at the man in suspicion. "Are you sure we should touch him, Severus? He might be dangerous."

"You say that _now_?" That would really be a perfect time to insert an "I told you so" comment, but Snape didn't really feel like it. He was tired, and slightly sick, and just wanted to drop onto his nice soft bed and sleep for a few years.

"Don't worry Severus, you're burnt out. I'll do it." Albus stepped behind Snape and pulled him up one-handed, a rather astonishing feat for a man 150 years or so old. He then pulled his wand out, and muttered, "_Morbilicorpus." _

The body rose and turned over, and all watching gasped as the extent of the man's injuries were visible. Severus' eyes glazed over and he turned away, memories deep within him rising to the surface. Memories of when he had made the worse mistake of his life, and pledged his mind, body and soul to another.

That was all over now, thankfully. The bastard was dead, and never coming back.

Dumbledore quickly cast a concealment charm over the man, and walked toward the door. Placing a hand on the knob, he turned. "The next meeting will commence in ten days, at six post meridian, in Headquarters. All are required." The twinkle in his eyes was gone, and he looked older than he had in years.

The door shut softly as the Commander left, and then Minerva sighed and strode after him.

There was a respectful silence for about two seconds, then Zabini broke it with a, "Well, who's up for dinner? I could _kill _for a roast steak and plum pudding."

"Shut _up, _Zabini," Black growled. For once Severus was in total agreement.

Filius coughed politely. "Sorry to interrupt," he squeaked, "But, what was wrong with the Redeemer? Why is he so, er..."

"Mauled? Decimated? Almost dead?" Snape grinned humorlessly. "There are a few options, most of you should be smart enough to figure them out. But the Redeemer seems to be a living human, instead of the god you all thought would be coming. The prophecy obviously was wrong, and we've almost killed an innocent in our quest to find a savior."

"Maybe not," Yvonne Sprout interjected. "Maybe they're just testing us, trying to see if we're worthy to have the savior."

"And who said the Redeemer couldn't be human?" Lupin asked in a reasonable tone. "We just all assumed he wouldn't be."

Severus felt like banging his head against the wall. He settled for glaring at the werewolf. "_Lupin, _if the Redeemer were human, how would he have the power to bring peace to the wizarding world? How could he _argue with the heavens and bespeak with demons?"_

"It's obvious, Snape," Black said, trying to sound scathing. "He's a powerful human. Maybe he trained at an ancient magical school in that alternate universe of his."

"Then _why _is he almost dead?"

"It could be a plot," Moody growled. "Who knows what those bloody Vipers might come up with?"

Yvonne sighed. "Moody, I don't think it's a plot. It's too detailed. We're the ones that brought him here, too, and if it _were_ a plot I don't think that they would let us do it. We might not get it right."

Snape snorted. "Why won't any of you think logically? Lily, back me up... Lily?" He looked around, but there was no splash of red hair and flicker of green eyes. "Where's Lily?"

"You scared her off," the mutt retorted, but he, too, was looking for the girl.

"I'm here," a muffled voice said softly, and Snape turned.

She was in the corner of the room, which was why Snape hadn't seen her before. With her chin resting on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs, she looked more like fifteen than the thirty-seven-year-old she actually was. But what worried Severus was her eyes, looking forward vacantly with none of the sparkle they usually held. Her eyes made her look dead.

Severus stepped up to her, but she acted like she didn't even notice him. He knelt on the ground for the third time in ten minutes, wincing as one of his muscles protested. "Lily?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him, and Snape felt slightly sick, her eyes were so full of despair and sadness. He turned, to see everyone looking at him.

His eyes darkened. "_Leave,_" he growled, and felt slightly satisfied at how quickly the room emptied.

The dog brothers were still around, though. Snape glared at them.

"We want to make sure Lils is alright," Black answered to the unspoken question.

Snape considered. Black was an arrogant bully and Lupin was a wimp who couldn't even stand up for himself, let alone anyone else. But he had to admit that they both genuinely cared for the well-being and safety of Lily Evans.

He sighed. "Fine. Don't make her any worse that she is already, or you'll answer to me."

"It's okay, Severus," Lily said softly. "I'm fine, really, it's just that..."

Snape leant next to Lily and put his arm around her shoulders, while Black and Lupin sat in front of her. "You'd better tell me the problem, Evans," he said mock seriously. "If you don't, I'm going to have embarrassed and degraded myself in front of Black and Lupin for nothing."

"Oooh, we could use a good show," Black grinned. "Don't tell him, don't tell him."

Lily smiled weakly.

"Are you worried for any reason we should know?" Lupin asked calmly. "Does it have something to do with the Redeemer?"

The smile instantly vanished. "Yes," Lily whispered.

Severus' eyes flashed. "What did he do to you?" he asked furiously. "If he hurt you, I'm going to go and make sure he never wakes up again."

"No! Severus, he didn't 'do anything' to me. He's in absolutely no state to be hurting anything!"

Snape calmed down. "But, why are you so..."

"Scared?" said Black.

"Depressed?" Lupin put in.

"Dismayed?"

"Dispirited?"

"Gloomy?"

"Discouraged?"

"I was going to say 'sad'," Snape said loftily, watching as Lily's expression brightened slightly. It seemed that the one thing Lupin and Black weren't dreadful at was cheering people up.

"It isn't that big a matter," Lily said. "It's just – you know how I'm a soul reader?"

Severus nodded, seeing Lupin and Black do the same.

"Well, all of you have checkered souls, Severus the most out of you. But the Redeemer..." She shook her head. "His soul's essentially good, of course, but it's so full of... darkness, for lack of a better world, that you can barely feel the better parts. And, and it feels like a whole big chunk of it is," she shuddered, "missing. Or destroyed. I could barely manage to stay in the same room as him."

"So he's evil?" Black questioned.

Lily glared. "Of course he's not. Dark doesn't equal evil, and I've always been of the opinion that there is no such thing as 'good' or 'evil' anyway. But... he feels like he's been through a lot, always got the short end of the stick, that sort of thing."

"Why would it matter if he got the short end of a stick?" Black asked, echoing Snape's thoughts.

Lily shared a grin with Lupin. "Muggle saying," they said in synchrony.

"Ahh." Black looked thoughtful (a momentous occasion, Snape decided. Someone should have brought a camera), then triumphantly, "So, your saying the Redeemer's human?"

"Of course," Lily said. "Didn't you see him? He looked like a human, he definitely _smelt _like a human, and his soul feels human. He's human."

"Ha! Snape, you're wrong, I'm right!" Black got up and did a little imbecilic dance. Snape raised an eyebrow. Lily laughed.

"But will his mind be a human's?" Lupin asked. The others looked at him questioningly, and Lupin elaborated. "He's the Redeemer. That's got to mean he's bloody powerful, and everyone knows how power warps your mind. Also, Lily, you say that he's full of darkness? Who know what he's been through?"

Black stopped grinning slowly as the implications of Lupin's words set in. "We'll have to be careful," he said. "Watch what we say around him, for one. He might save the wizarding world just to stab us in the back afterwards."

Snape knew Black was right, for once. It had been what he had been thinking himself, before. But, seeing the Redeemer all bloodied up right in _those _exact places, and especially seeing the carving on his leg, had made him feel uncomfortably sympathetic to the man. But why was he all mauled in the first place?

He stood up suddenly, thinking that maybe a rest would make him able to see things clearer. "I'll leave you all to talk about this, then," he said, and walked toward the door. He opened it then turned. "Black, Lupin, Lily," he said. "I hope you feel better soon. You should stay away from the man, if he makes you feel like that."

Then he went out, shut the door and strode down the dusty hallways toward his room.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I'm dreaming, I know. Or hallucinating; there's not really much difference between the two.

Images flash in front of my eyes, showing my hopes, my dreams, and the moments they were all destroyed. The heartbreak is gone, but the bitterness will stay forevermore.

I see never-ending legions of Death Eaters all standing around a circle, wherein lie all the people I could have saved. Not surprisingly, the numbers seem to be in the millions, and most of the people I've never even met. They're screaming at me, screaming that I killed them, that their lives would have been so much better had I got something right for once.

There stands my legacy to the world. Innumerable people dead and a killer ruling a continent.

The Death Eaters grin, and are morphed into dementors. Immediately a barrage of memories assault me.

_I am running, running and screaming through a burning castle. I've just watched the deaths of my two best friends, and been able to do nothing._

_I am witnessing a building blowing up, thought to be a Death Eater base. Draco Malfoy is still inside._

_I cast the crucio curse on Rudolphus Lestrange, and laugh as he screams. "Now you know how Neville's parents felt," I say. _

_I am bound and gagged to a chair, looking on as the new Death Eater Keleria cuts up pieces of Remus for his initiation ritual._

_I stand, emptily staring at the vast wasteland, little wooden crosses dotted all around. In front of me is a cross with a scratched out name on it. "Hagrid," it says._

_I lie stretched out on a cement block, writhing and screaming as Voldemort's two favorite Death Eaters torture me. They whisper how I kill everything that I love, how I've failed at everything I ever tried, how I will ever lie in torment thinking about lost hope._

One memory in particular stands out.

_I'm standing on the ruins of what once was Hogwarts. It's not safe to be here, really, but I feel like I have to see my home just one more time before I move on._

_Nearly Headless Nick floats over to me, and I turn, dully astonished that even ghosts could survive the siege._

"_Nick," I say when he is next to me._

_He looks at me blankly. "Who are you?" he asks. I'm not surprised he doesn't know me; I've changed a lot in the last few years._

_I grin self-mockingly. "I'm sure you've heard if me, Nick. I'm the ever illustrious savior of the wizarding world, Harry James Potter."_

"_Harry... Potter?" Nick seems slightly confused. "I... don't know who..."_

_Surely his memory hasn't deteriorated that much? "Are you okay, Nick?" I ask._

"_I... I remember screams," he says softly. "And death. And... blood. So much blood."_

_Ahh. It seems that Nick didn't get out unscathed after all._

"_Everything's destroyed," he whispers. "There's nothing left, except for ghosts. It all went wrong, and I can't even leave this plain because nothing has been laid to rest. I... can't move on." His voice turns bitter. "I live even when I am dead."_

_His feelings are very similar to my own, I realise. We're both the ultimate survivors, watching while everything perishes around us. _

_Who'd have thought I'd have more in common with a ghost than a human?_

The dementors are leaving now, and their memories with them. I am once again lost in a world of colour and sound, darkness surrounding the edges.

At one point I remember I'm supposed to be dead. I vaguely wonder why I don't feel at peace.

Strange creatures battle in a cracked and broken Colosseum, claws slashing and teeth gnashing. A little creature comes between them, and the monsters stop their battle for a moment and gang up on the smaller one. He is ripped to shreds immediately, and all that is left of him is a spot of blood, not even noticeable amongst all the other reddish-brown patches.

I swim through the subconscious of my mind, meeting apparitions and spectres along the way. People I'd only ever met once, or maybe only seen for a second, come up in front of me. Along with these are people I've known for all my life.

I come to a door, plain and unadorned. I watch it suspiciously for a moment, in case it suddenly decides to morph into a dementor. It doesn't immediately express a wish to become an animagus, so I come closer.

I hear the gentle murmur of words being said, but they're indistinct. I put my hand on the faded wood, and the talking becomes slightly clearer.

"–_ong with him?"_ I gasp slightly; it's Snape! _He's_ not dead! At least, I hope not.

"_Oh Severus, Commander, it's horrible! I've never seen someone so messed up and yet still alive. I don't even want to talk about it, let alone try and fix him." _That's Mme. Pomfrey, I realise. She sounds quite a bit different from when I last heard her. Then again, the last time I heard her she was screaming as she was crucio'ed, so there's not much to compare with.

"_Just tell us his injuries, Poppy. I take it you've already started work on making him better?" _My eyes widen – it's Albus!

"_Yes, but it will need more than just me to make him heal completely. We'll need a whole squadron from St. Mungo's." _She takes a deep breath, then, _"Well, he's malnourished, to start with. It looks like he's been like that on and off throughout his life, but just recently it's got worse. _

"_There's bruises all over his body, and minor cuts. Some are recent, some older. There's many old scars on him. He's also got some first and second degree burns, and even one third. _

"_Both arms are dislocated, seriously, too. One leg is broken in... nine places, and the other is..." _

"_What?" _Snape asks. He seems strangely agitated.

"_The other is... cut into with a dagger, made into patterns. They're quite strange, too. Almost like someone was trying to carve a painting..." _

Snape hisses inwardly, but doesn't offer information. Pomfrey continues. _"Five of his ribs were cracked, but I've managed to fix all but two of them. It's a miracle that a lung wasn't ruptured, really._

"_Many of his brain-cells had been destroyed, but Severus invented a cell replacer potion a few years ago, and I fixed that up. He also had a hairline fracture, but that's mostly gone now. _

_There's also the remnants of curses on his body; pain curses mostly. Almost all are Dark, but there are a few of the shadier Light one's, too. Oh, and he has a fever, which we should be able to get rid of fairly quickly. But honestly, he'll probably deal with the pain better when he's not fully coherent." _Her voice turns amazed._ "It's astonishing that he's survived, really. I don't know anyone who's been through all that and lived to tell the tale."_

The door suddenly distorts, folding in on itself. I try to touch it again, wanting to once more hear familiar voices, but every time I come closer it gets further away. Then it is gone, and I am alone in endless blackness.

I should be used to being alone, I know. My last six months were spent in a prison, where no one was exactly kind and helpful. But at least then there _were_ people around, letting me know that even though I was an absolute failure, I at least had an existence. Around here, I can almost believe that I am nothing, and mean nothing.

But I remind myself. I do mean things, just all the wrong things.

Then the nightmares come, and I think no more.

**August 13th, 1997**

Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her paperwork to see two boys standing at the door of her office.

The first was tall and gangly, still not properly grown into his body. His face was speckled with freckles, and his hair a bright red colour that marked him instantly out as a Weasley. The other was shorter – but still quite tall, with a slightly aristocratic look about him. He had designer clothes, black hair that was artistically messed up, and silver-rimmed rectangular glasses. His bright green eyes shone underneath.

Poppy sighed, and spoke impatiently. "Potter, Weasley. Who's stuck in a tree _this _time?" She was still getting over last time, when Miss Brown had climbed a giant oak tree before remembering that she was terrified of heights. She had then refused to climb down, or let anyone float her down, thinking that they would drop her. It was found out a week later that the two boys standing in front of her had dared the girl to do it.

Honestly, when would everyone realise that a war was going on? The two were about to start their last year, and they weren't even thinking about anything outside Hogwarts. Didn't they notice the peeling walls, the bordered up windows, the increasing defenses? Didn't they see that all the knights of armor were now stationed at the hogwarts gates, ready to use as a first defense to any unpleasant people trying to get into the school? Didn't they even fully realise that the decision to keep students over summer hadn't been used since the bubonic plague broke out in the middle ages?

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. She'd learnt a long time ago that people only saw what they wanted to see.

Weasley looked slightly guilt, but Potter just brushed it off. "No one at the moment," he said, grinning. "But there _is _a bit of a problem. You see, Dennis and Colin Creevey were arguing over a rare photo of me, and the fight escalated into curses. They both need your assistance now."

Poppy sighed again, this time with irritation. Those brothers had been hopelessly in awe of Harry Potter ever since he saved Colin from Draco Malfoy in the boy's first year. Potter didn't discourage them either; he soaked up the attention like a sponge.

"I suppose I'd better check on them," she said, getting up. "But if I find that you two were involved in this, Filch's ancient torture instruments will seem pleasant compared to what _I _will do to you." It wasn't implausible; Potter and Weasley's penchant for mischief almost outdid that of the infamous Marauders. Not surprising, really, considering who Potter's father was.

Harry and Ron watched Mme. Pomfrey go out of the room, then turned and grinned at each other.

"That was almost too easy," Ron said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. But Pomfrey thinks of her patients first, and stopping people from getting in her rooms second. And anyway, we're Gryffindors. We're trustworthy."

Ron stepped forward. "Hmm. Yeah. Hey, do you think there really _is_ some secret patient somewhere around here? It could have just been a ghost that Seamus heard."

"No," said Harry decisively. "He didn't actually _hear _the person. He heard Dumbledore and Snape talking about him today, saying that he was 'mostly fixed up' or something like that. Dumbledore doesn't lie." He pointed to a door behind Mme. Pomfrey's desk. "The guy will be in there, if anywhere."

They walked to the door, and Ron tried to open it. Not surprisingly, it didn't budge.

Harry got his wand out. _"Alohomora," _he said, pointing it at the door. But there was no click as the lock unlocked, and when they tried to open it it stayed immovable.

"Damn," Harry said, and kicked the door.

"There's probably a key around here somewhere," Ron ventured. "Pomfrey didn't pick up anything as she left."

"Good idea," Harry approved. "Okay, then. Let's look for a key."

They searched around the office, lightly rifling through Mme. Pomfrey's things. Harry checked the desk while Ron went through the filing cabinets.

"Hey, mate!" Ron exclaimed. "There's a history of all the students' medical problems here, and all the times they've come to the Hospital Wing." He leafed through the files. "Hah. Yours is, like, twice the size of everyone else's. All that Quidditch, I suppose. Oooh, here's Ginny's." He looked in it. "Bloody – she got turned into a plank of wood and couldn't get changed back for a week! She never told any of _us_ about that." He put the file back in the cabinet and randomly flicked through them all.

"Here's know-it-all Granger's. Wow, she got _rabies _once! Where the hell has _she _been? And," he gave a gasp of laughter, "oh Harry, come look! Malfoy's come here at least twenty times for _acne _problems! Doesn't help the bloody git any, though." There was no forthcoming answer, so Ron looked up. There was no sign of Harry, but the extra door in Poppy's office was slightly ajar.

Ron rolled his eyes; Harry _would _go inside a potentially dangerous room by himself. As much as he loved attention, he seemed to be forever needing to prove that he was brave, that he was courageous, that he was the ultimate Gryffindor.

Or maybe it was just that he wanted all the rewards.

Ron crept up to the room, and put his hand on the door. He gently pushed it open.

It was quite plain, considering it housed a secret patient. But then, it _was _Madam Pomfrey's room, so it shouldn't really be surprising that the room just looked like an extension of the hospital wing.

There was only one bed though, off to the right of the room. The blinds were drawn, but Ron could see Harry's legs poking out underneath. He walked towards the bed.

Harry was standing with his back to him, staring at the body on the bed. Ron's eyes were drawn to the man, and he sized him up.

He was quite scrawny really; he couldn't be any more that 5'8. A sheet was covering him to mid-waist, so his lower half was invisible. But Ron could see enough.

He was riddled with scars, cris-crossing all over his body. He was frightfully thin, and his veins stuck out prominently. There was one particular scar that was highly noticeable, as it was one of the deepest, and on his face. It started on the side of his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. It kept going, though, through the side of his eye and down to the edge of his cheek.

He was clean, at least. His shoulder-length black hair was shiny, and his teeth were practically sparkling. But that couldn't hide the frown lines on his face, or the other signs of his torment.

He didn't even look old. Thirty at most.

"And Professor Dumbledore said he was mostly fixed up," Harry said, stunned.

With a bang, the outside door slammed shut. Footsteps could be heard, softly coming closer. Ron and Harry looked at each other in horror. Over the years at Hogwarts they'd catalogued the sounds of all the staff members, so they knew who was about to come up next to them without turning around. It also helped when sneaking around the castle after curfew, because they could tell if the person coming closer to them was likely to send them back to bed, give them a detention, or try and get them expelled.

There was no doubt about it. It was definitely Snape who was crossing Pomfrey's office, and closing in on the "secret" room.

Harry pulled Ron down next to him, and gestured. "Under the bed," he whispered furiously. Wasting no time, Ron complied, squeezing into the cramped space and shifting over to the far end so Harry could come in after.

The footsteps stopped at the doorway, and Ron realised he had forgotten to close the door behind him. He cursed under his breath.

"Poppy?" Snape called softly. Unsurprisingly, no one answered.

The door closed, and Snape walked forward. "Getting senile in her old age," he muttered.

He stopped at the curtain, and his black boots were visible. "That's strange," he murmured. Ron saw Harry tense, and remembered that the curtain hadn't been fully pulled back into it's position.

There was a slight jingle, and Ron recalled the keys still on the bedside table.

"Where–" Snape said, paused for a second, then "Oh..." Then all sounds of him completely vanished. If it weren't for the shoes still showing, Ron would have thought he'd vanished.

Ron was uncomfortably aware of the sound of his and Harry's breathing, and the sounds of their hearts. So, apparently, was Snape, because a few seconds later he was talking. "Come out, you two," he said.

Harry and Ron didn't move.

"I assure you, making me bend down and pull you out from beneath the bed would make your punishment one-thousand times worse than it will already be. Come. Out."

Slowly, Harry crawled out, Ron following. Snape stood silently, arms crossed, watching them stand up.

"Well, well, well," he said softly. "Potter and Weasley. I should have guessed." His face was even paler than usual, which Ron didn't take to be a good sign.

"Only you two," he said, "would have enough dumb luck to find such a closely kept secret that not even all Professors know about it. Only you two would be stupid enough to attempt to find out more about said secret. Only you two–"

"Sir, don't blame Ron," Harry cut in. "He didn't do anything; this was all my idea."

"Hey, that's not right!" Ron exclaimed. "I did just as many things wrong as you."

"Don't worry, Potter," Snape said nastily. "I know you thought up this little stunt; it reeks of arrogance and disregard of the rules. I can see you're taking after your father–"

"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT DAD LIKE THAT!" Harry shouted immediately.

"My, my, Potter, what a big temper you have there. That will be thirty points for shouting at a Professor. We'll go up to the Commander now, shall we?"

Ron felt suddenly sick. In front of Dumbledore...

"– And fifty for going through a Professor's possessions, and forty for stealing a Professor's keys, and forty for entering a forbidden room, and twenty for hiding from a Professor. Oh, and ten for eavesdropping." Snape sounded positively gleeful. "Detentions until Christmas, rotating between Filch and I. That is if you don't get expel–"

A voice came from the bed, cracked and croaky. "Excuse me, but can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?"


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I came from a nightmare of horror and destruction to find that there was something wrong with the scene. There was no screaming.

My eyelids felt heavy, but I managed to open them slightly so that I could see through slits. Immediately a bright white light filled my vision, so I hastily shut them again.

At that point I realised something else very abnormal. My fever was gone, and I was in barely any pain. In fact, I felt practically energetic. Astonished by this, I tried to sit up. I managed to get about half way before my head started swimming, and lay down again.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't as well as I thought.

Able to think properly for the first time in months (the Death Eaters ask themselves, "Hey, when we're not there, and the Dementors aren't there, how else can we make our guests' lives living hells?" And answer, "Pump them with hallucinogenic potions, of course!") I catalogued what my senses were telling me. The sheets felt rough and the bed was hard, and the smell of air freshener flowed around the room. I felt behind me, and touched the metal bed-frame. My hand moved above that, and encountered a plaster wall. It seemed to be slightly chipped in places.

Okay, time to try something I'd learnt from Snape.

I stopped breathing, and went completely still. At the same time I sent small Legilimency waves out around me. They were too small to read thoughts, but they would show if a person was standing nearby.

I searched directly around me, finding nothing. I then tried to go out further, but when I'd hardly gone far at all I was stopped by a barrier.

I let out the breath I had been holding. The room was warded. Interesting...

How about an experiment then?

"HELLO? CAN SOMEONE GET OVER HERE, PLEASE?" I shouted, then listened. There were no footsteps, and no muttered talking.

That didn't necessarily mean no one was around, though. They could just be out at the moment, or maybe the wards cut off noise. Or, it could also be that the people were smarter than me, and waiting outside, listening to what I was doing.

Not knowing what to do, I lay back down, pushing the sheet around me down to my waist when I started to feel hot. There must have been some spell on the room, maybe to sweat out my fever.

The memories of my recent past flowed back across me, and I winced at the remembrance of all that pain.

"_You're nothing, boy." _

_You sound like uncle Vernon, Keleria _

"_You don't even deserve a name." _

_That's what he thought. Howd'ya like being compared to a muggle?_

"_And I'm going to cut,"_

_Pain,_

"_Oh yes, I'll cut,"_

_Don't talk, don't plead never plead, _

_Until all that resistence is bled out of you. Or I – sorry, I mean _you –_ will die trying." _

But I survived, apparently, and was now in some form of hospital. It was certainly a lot better than the ones we Vipers had, as I could actually _smell _the magical sterilization, and taste the slightly tangy residue of pain-stoppering potions on my tongue.

I really didn't know what to make of the situation. I was angry, of course. I'd wanted to die, and then I'd apparently been saved and brought here before that could happen. I honestly didn't know why; almost everyone in Britain hated me with a fiery rage, and they'd sooner suicide than save me. I actually knew of someone who had.

And how could I have been brought here in the first place? I had been in _Azkaban, _an impenetrable fortress run by Dementors and Death Eaters, and ruled over by Voldemort. It was impossible for _anyone _to get in or out.

But then, how did I know what had been happening the last six months? My thoughts were based on assumptions. Maybe there'd been a spy within the Death Eaters, and they'd managed to get me out?

Okay, unlikely. Surely they would have done it sooner, unless of course they were sadistic and hated me anyway.

But I shouldn't think about things without any proof.

Hah. The one good thing I'd learnt since leaving school was how to think logically.

Slowly, I opened my eyes again, and this time I could keep them open. I took in what was around me.

The ceiling was a faded white, uncomfortable against my sensitive eyes. There were curtains surrounding my bed, were a dull grey with brown patterns. It might be a good hospital, but the interior decorator needed to be sacked.

There was the sound of a door opening, and I quickly closed my eyes again.

"–know-it-all Granger's. Wow, she got _rabies _once! Where the hell has _she _been? And – oh Harry, come look! Malfoy's come here at least twenty times for _acne _problems! Doesn't help the bloody git any, though." I froze completely, not even breathing. That voice. Familiar...

"_Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out._

"_Yes..." said Ron softly, "it's the only way... I've got to be taken."_

"_Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron._

"_Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest._

"_You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photocall or something."_

"_Blimey!" said Ron._

"_How did you get away?" I asked._

"_Couple of stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx."_

_Ron grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. "Don't worry mate, I'll always support you, no matter what. You can count on me."_

_Screams._

_Tears._

_Blood._

_Death._

_Flames._

_Shouting._

"_Harry, go! You have to hold back Voldemort."_

"_I'm not leaving you guys!"_

"_We'll be fine! Me and Herms'll look after the tower. You have a job to do!"_

_Head shaking._

"_But Albus is _dead, _Ron! How can we win?"_

_Shove. _

"_If you don't go right now, Harry, I swear I'll hex you right into tomorrow. Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted you to give up!"_

"_Ron..."_

_A tear. Ron, crying?_

"_Do it for Ginny, if not for anyone else. She would have wanted it."_

I jerked out of my reverie as the sounds of boots pierced my ears. I quickly blanked my anguished expression and made my breathing calm and steady.

The curtain drew apart, and someone gasped. I didn't really notice; I was thinking about Ron's voice, and why the hell was here. It didn't _sound _like something my mind had conjured up.

Other footsteps came closer, and my breath became imperceptibly quicker. Ron...

The person stops walking, and I assume he's looking at me.

"And Professor Dumbledore said he was mostly fixed up."

Okay. What the hell? That was _my _voice, but from a _very _long time ago. I sounded completely different now.

What was happening?

I was starting to get angry. I hoped no one was playing around with my mind. But no one could any more, I realized, and smiled inwardly. Not with me having mastered Occlumency.

A door, not the one to my room, slammed shut, and footsteps came closer. I hoped that whoever it was, he or she would make things less confusing.

"Under the bed," the person who's voice sounded the same as mine whispered. I couldn't help but grin a little; if it _was _an actor, he was doing a bloody good impression of me in sixth year.

The footsteps stopped at the doorway, and I made my expression blank again.

"Poppy?" I flinched involuntarily, it was _Snape! _Calling Mme. Pomfrey, who he _definitely_ knew was dead. Something very bizarre was happening...

The door closed, and Snape walked forward. "Getting senile in her old age," he muttered. Now that I concentrated, I could hear a slight difference in his tone from the Snape I knew. He sounded... lighter, slightly, from what I remembered. Less world weary, a bit less cynical. His footsteps were heavier, anyway, showing that he didn't care if anyone heard him.

He walked up to me. I tried not to show any reaction.

"That's strange," he murmured.

There was a slight jingle; the keys, I assumed. I realised then that the two boys sounding like Ron and me might not actually be allowed into the room. Bit of an idiot for not noticing it sooner, really.

"Where–" Snape said, paused for a second, then "Oh..." Then he stopped moving, and went completely silent.

It was this, more than anything else, that made me believe it was actually Snape. He was using the same technique that he'd taught me.

A few seconds later he spoke. "Come out, you two," he said.

There was no movement.

"I assure you, making me bend down and pull you out from beneath the bed would make your punishment one-thousand times worse than it will already be. Come. Out."

There were sounds of scuffling, and I assumed the boys were getting out of the bed. There were a few seconds of silence, then, "Well, well, well, Potter and Weasley. I should have guessed." I shivered slightly; that sentence was freakily familiar to me. Not able to stand not seeing, my eyes snapped open and looked to the side. Luckily, no one noticed.

It was definitely Ron, Snape and me standing to the right of my bed, but they were a lot younger than they would be now.

I felt like screaming. This was so bloody confusing...

"Only you two," Snape but not Snape said, "would have enough dumb luck to find such a closely kept secret that not even all Professors know about it. Only you two would be stupid enough to attempt to find out more about said secret. Only you two–"

"Sir, don't blame Ron," the person who was me but younger said.. "He didn't do anything; this was all my idea."

"Hey, that's not right!" Ron... "I did just as many things wrong as you."

"Don't worry, Potter," Snape said nastily, that sentence making him seem like the Snape I knew from earlier years. "I know you thought up this little stunt; it reeks of arrogance and disregard of the rules. I can see you're taking after your father–"

Me but not me interrupted. "DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT DAD LIKE THAT!" Well, that definitely brought back memories.

"My, my, Potter, what a big temper you have there. That will be thirty points for shouting at a Professor. We'll go up to the Commander now, shall we?"

Commander? Who was that? Didn't Snape mean "Headmaster"?

"Hmm, let's dock some points, shall we? Well..."

As Snape reeled off offences and took points, I suddenly came to a decision. Sitting here listening to conversations hadn't brought any answers, and if I got any more confused I feared I'd go insane. Time to get some answers.

I sat up slowly, and cut off Snape's tirade. "Excuse me, but can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?"

000

Snape looked at the patient with shock, dimly seeing Potter and Weasley do the same. Now that the redeemer was awake, he looked a lot less dead than he had before, probably due to his flashing green eyes. For a second Severus was sharply reminded of Lily.

Potter spoke first, of course. Never thinking that anything wasn't his business. "What do you mean 'what's going on'?" he said arrogantly. "You're the secret patient everyone's whispering about; I think you'd know more than us. Why isn't anyone allowed to know about you?"

Snape glared, and before the man could speak, said silkily, "Potter, cease your blatant disregard to those much wiser than yourself and get out. Take Weasley with you. I expect to see you both in detention on Saturday night."

They didn't leave immediately. No respect for authority figures. "_Out," _Snape growled, lacing his voice with venom. The boys flew from the room, the door slamming behind them.

Severus looked back at the man, to see a slight grin on his face. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"What, may I ask, is so amusing?"

"Oh, nothing," the man said airily. Then he leaned forward in the bed. "Now, can you please explain how I have come from a place no one can enter or leave anymore and have been brought here? Oh, and what's your name?"

"Severus Snape," the Potions Master answered. It was the only question he knew how to answer.

This was rather strange, really. As much as he had thought the Redeemer was a man and not a being, he had assumed that when he woke up he would be distant and arrogant, above it all.

He decided to try being a little more civil. "And what would your name be, for I can't go around calling you the Redeemer all the time, can I?"

The calm manner on the man's face vanished instantly. "What did you just call me?" he said softly, dangerously.

Snape's brow creased. "I believe I just asked what you wanted to be called."

"I heard what you said. You called me the Redeemerdidn't you?"

"_Yes..._" Why didn't the man want to be known by his formal name?

"Why the hell did you call me that?"

"That is what you are called in the prophecy of the sorcerer scroll." Snape said slowly, as if to an infant. He paused. "Of course, you already know this."

The man stared at him for a while, until a sudden horrible recognition lit his face. His eyes darkened, and his hands shook slightly.

"No," he said.

"You _don't _know this?"

"Oh, I think I get the gist of this prophecy you're speaking about," he said bitterly. "You and your friends have stuffed everything up, and are now coming to me to make it all better. I'm saying, no, I will not participate."

Snape's jaw dropped slightly. "But... you were made to complete the prophecy, weren't you? That's why we could bring you through worlds with the Sacred Mirror."

Fury shone through the man. He seemed to get up off the bed through willpower alone.

"You brought me cross-worlds?" he whispered.

Snape took a step back, not quite knowing why. He'd faced worse things before without flinching. "The rest of the Decagon and I, yes."

The man's fists were clenched, and his teeth bared in a snarl.

"You fucking, fucking _bastards._ Do you have _any _idea what you have done to me?"

Now Snape was starting to get angry. "You are obviously the person the prophecy was talking about, because you are here now. Your whole life was made to complete this prophecy. _Why _do you not want to do this?"

The man shook his head. "No. You have absolutely _no _idea." He walked closer to Snape, slowly, as though he was in pain. When he was only two feet away, he spoke. "I wanted to _die. _I was about to, and then _you _came and saved me and screwed everything up. Just once, I wanted to be normal like everyone else." He gave a hollow laugh. "But of course, I couldn't possibly be normal. Not me; I had to survive yet again. And now, people are expecting me to do something else. Right when I think nobody wants anything more from me."

He spat on the floor in front of Snape, then walked toward the door. "I will not become a tool again," he said. "I will not be used. I will not have people take me for granted, then become furious when I cannot live up to their expectations. I am leaving."

"But Redeemer–"

The man whirled around. "Don't you _dare _call me that!" he snarled. "You have no fucking idea what memories I have associated with that word."

Severus strode up to the man. "Look here, whoever or whatever you are," he murmured angrily. "There was a prophecy made almost a millennium ago, by one of Rowena Ravenclaw's descendants. If this prophecy is not followed through, it will be the end of the world as we know it. Life will be wreathed in darkness forevermore."

The man sneered. "I've lived in darkness for over seven years. It's nothing special. People die. More people die. People get tortured, and more people die. Don't be melodramatic, Snape."

"So, you don't care if everyone dies?" Severus couldn't believe the disregard the man was giving. He was the _Redeemer, _yet he hated his name. He was destined to save a country, yet he wanted nothing to do with it.

He decided to get him to agree by using his greed against him. "Don't you want the rewards you'll get from defeating evil? Don't you want fame?"

The man snorted. "And the stupidest question of the year goes to..." He turned toward the door.

Snape glared at the Redeemer's back, put off that his idea had been rebuffed. "Where will you go, then?" he hissed. "You couldn't go twenty steps without falling."

"I'll manage," was the only answer the man gave, as he reached the door. He tried to turn it, but his hands seemed too sweaty and the knob didn't move. Swearing, the man kicked the door.

He spasmed in pain, yelling out and falling on the ground. Severus was by his side in an instant.

"Shit," the man whispered, face white. "Oh, bloody – don't aggravate newly grown bones, I tell myself, then I go and kick a door. What a _brilliant _idea, there. I think I'll go shoot the hell out of my brains now."

"Shut up and be still," Snape told the man sharply, checking his foot. It was bent to the side at a rather disturbing angle.

"Be grateful you know how to kick properly," Snape said. "At least it's just your ankle. What would be a lot worse would be if you didn't lift your foot up properly, and ended up breaking all your toes. They're a lot more complicated to put back properly."

"Whatever," the man said through clenched teeth. "If you wouldn't mind helping me back to my bed, because I think I'm going to be unconscious within a minute. Resulting gifts of torture." He gave a hollow laugh.

Snape hauled the Redeemer up and dragged him back to the bed, finding him disturbingly light. He'd have to get Poppy to give him more food, he thought.

Then he berated himself. _I sound like a fussing mother._

He laid the man back onto his bed, and saw him wince slightly. "Couldn't you have used a _mobilicorpus_?"

"I use my wand as little as possible these days," Snape told him bluntly. "There are reasons; all to do with the war that's going on. The one that _you _could finish."

The Redeemer sighed and closed his eyes, and when he opened them he looked tired and weary.

"Snape..." he paused, then suddenly seeming to come to a decision.

"There was once a little baby boy, growing up in the world," he said softly. "Not growing perfectly, perhaps, but growing normally. Then one day, a prophecy was made." He took a deep breath and continued. "Because of this prophecy, a disturbed man with a wish to be immortal killed the boy's parents, and from there on, it became the boy's job to stop the mass murderer. No matter that he was just human, no matter that his magic level was just average, no matter that hundreds of much more talented people had gone against this man and lost; _he _was the child of the prophecy, of course he would win." The Redeemer's eye's shut tightly.

Snape sat, waiting for the rest of the story. He started to get irritated, suspecting that the man was just waiting for him to ask. He told himself that he would wait for the man to talk.

He lasted three minutes, before his curiosity and aggravation got the better of him. "Well?" he asked tersely, looking at the Redeemer. Who was lying with his mouth slightly open, and his breathing slow and steady.

Asleep.

Snape felt ever so slightly embarrassed, but there was no one to see his mistake so he didn't dwell on it much. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated the enigma that was the Redeemer.

There was a lot to think about.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: August 15th, 1997**

In the whole of Hogwarts, out of every single room you might come across, through infinite secret passageways, the only completely secret place was the dining room behind Albus Dumbledore's office. It even had the fidelius charm placed upon it, with the Commander the secret keeper. It was impossible for anyone not wanted to overhear anything, and that made it the perfect place for the Headquarters of the Decagon to reside.

That was why, two days after the most confusing conversation of his life, Severus was walking over to the gargoyle guarding Albus' office. Strangely, to Snape, one of the biggest sign that there was a war present was that Dumbledore's office didn't have sweets as passwords any more. No longer could people gain entry by randomly proclaiming tooth-decaying substances, and no more could students easily come and have a chat with the Commander. No, instead the gargoyle had been upgraded, and could sense your magical signature. No one could impersonate that.

Snape stopped in front of the gargoyle, and it looked at him speculatively. "Severus Snape, Potions Master, head of Slytherin and one tenth of the Decagon." The gargoyle's eyes flashed a bright yellow colour, and it slowly opened up, creaking ominously. Rolling his eyes at the ornamentation, Snape climbed up the stairs.

Albus was at the top, sitting behind his desk."Ah, Severus. So nice for you to join us."

Snape grinned wryly; that was Dumbledore's polite way of saying he was late. "Apologies, Albus. I had some Gryffindors to discipline."

The Commander's eyes twinkled. "Really, Severus, surely Harry and Ronald haven't done something so horrific for you to have them cleaning cauldrons for four hours."

Damn; caught in the act. "They deserved it," Snape said decisively. "I was coming to ask for a report of the patient from Poppy, and found _those _two in the warded room, attempting to avoid me by hiding under a _bed._"

Albus frowned slightly, switching instantly from his crazy-harmless-old-man mode to his powerful-leader mode. "What did they know? Did they just pick up a little information or do they know about the prophecy of the Redeemer? Do you think Harry will inform his father?"

"I...hadn't actually thought about that," Snape admitted. "I was too furious that they were even _in _the room to think about why. And knowing Potter, he has already gone prattling to his father about everything he saw or heard."

The Commander looked troubled. "Find out what you can," he said, "but don't ask them straight out. Dust out your spying uniform from the closet and do a little undercover information gathering." Snape nodded.

There was a clatter on the stairs, and Severus and Dumbledore turned to see Matthew Zabini crawling up the stairs. He looked up at them it despair."It's _terrible!_" he exclaimed. "Horrific! Horrendous!"

"What?" Snape asked sharply.

"Oh Severus, I think I shall faint!" Zabini staggered up and leaned on Snape. "I was wandering through the school, because I'd just got _frightfully _lost, when I went to a room where the main colours were grey and pale green!" He swooned.

"Get _off _me, Zabini," Snape snarled, pushing the man away. "You're late to a meeting because the castle wasn't colour-coordinated enough for you?"

"Well, as soon as I saw the room, I just _knew _that I had to fix it up, but I couldn't for the life of me remember the colour changing charm! So I had to go to the library, but that _dear _librarian Mme. Pince was out, and I didn't know which section to go to. So _then _I–"

"Sorry to interrupt, Matthew my boy, but the rest of the Decagon is waiting and it would be rather rude to keep them any longer, wouldn't you say?" Severus rather admired Dumbledore for his tact, though he would never use it himself. He had an image to project, after all.

"Oh, of _course, _Albus! How could I have been so _rude_?" Zabini practically pranced past both men, and through the door. It slammed loudly behind, cutting off noise.

"Albus, why did we have to make him part of the Decagon?" Snape asked despairingly.

"Matthew is immensely strong magically, despite his rather...exuberant personality. Also, his family is firmly entrenched in our side."

"Rhetorical question, Albus," Snape muttered, and stepped forward. "I have some more information to share, and it involves the awakening of the...patient. I should probably properly explain it fully in the adjoining room."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, Severus."

They both walked up to the door, Snape proceeding Albus. The Potions Master looked around – taking in the giant oak table, the stacks of food laid upon it, Zabini moving from person to person talking in endless italics and exclamation marks, and the loud voices talking merrily despite all logic, not even noticing the appearance of the Commander – and his expression darkened. This was a _meeting, _not a happy little reunion. Everyone should be focused on the task at hand.

A wicked idea came to Snape, and he looked at Albus with a slight pleading expression. The old man just smiled and twinkled irritatingly. "Go ahead, Severus. Merlin knows you'll be sulky for the rest of the evening if I don't let you."

Snape was slightly put out that Albus was comparing him with a child deprived of his sweets, but he didn't let it get to him much. Instead, he muttered, "You might want to put a temporary deafness charm on yourself, Albus," and flicked his wand out of his wrist guard. Eleven inches, mahogany, with a dragon heartstring core. Perfect.

Then it hit him. He couldn't use his wand.

Snape took a deep breath, trying to stifle the explosive curses threatening at his lips. He would _not _lower himself to swearing. Blasphemy was for people who couldn't think of eloquent enough sentences. "Sometimes I wish I could _destroy _that interfering ministry, and their utterly pointless rule about magic from Slytherins," he muttered.

Albus' eyes flashed in understanding. "Oh Severus, I apologize. With so many things to think about, I completely forgot that you weren't supposed to use your wand."

Snape shook his head. "Not your fault, Albus." Feeling like he needed to expend some anger, Severus walked forward. In his soft silky classroom voice that nevertheless carried all around the room, he said, "Oh, I must have come to the wrong room. I thought a _meeting _was being held here, not a celebration. Please direct me to the correct establishment." The conversation died down as everyone turned toward Snape, who snarled savagely.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, stepping forward. "If everyone would take a seat, we can get this underway. Unfortunately, Minerva is being held up by paperwork, and not able to attend. We shall do this without her, and I will relay to her the information tomorrow."

Snape looked for a seat, and felt vaguely smug that Lily had kept one free next to her. He strode over and sat down."What's got you angry, Severus?" the woman asked.

The Potions Master sighed. "Just recalling imbecilic ministry rules, Lily. Nothing you can help with."

Lily's eyes darkened. "I swear, sometimes it seems as if James makes up those laws just to hinder _you_, never mind the rest of the Slytherin community."

"Snape snorted. "It certainly doesn't stop the Viper's Poison. They either get illegal wands, or perform the 'Dark Art' spell to take their wands off the ministry radar."

"Why don't you do that?" Lily asked curiously.

Snape answered dryly, "Well, the spell involves an enormous amount of blood and pain, so much that the person would almost definitely die. And I don't think Albus would take kindly to me leeching blood off unsuspecting students, as enticing as the thought sounds." His voice dripped with mocking obedience. "The minister knows best, I'm sure."

"If I may have your attention?" Everyone turned to Albus, sitting at the head of the table in his full imperial glory. "Thank you," he said. "Now, we shall go around the circle in a clockwise direction, and you shall present your information. Filius?"

The little man sat up straight. "Well," he squeaked, "I've been recently trying to scry the main base of the Vipers, but so far I've had mostly disappointing failures. Only once have I managed to wriggle past the wards, and I saw nothing but a black room before I was thrown out." His voice turned troubled. "They obviously have very powerful wizards with them: wards like are maintained by one person only."

Albus nodded. "An admirable effort nevertheless, Filius. Matthew?"

"Oh, well, like you so _generously _asked me to, Albus, I am researching a way to combine particular potions with spells to create _glorious _effects."

"Any luck?" Snape was once again amazed by how Dumbledore could project an interest in Zabini's work; everyone except Matthew himself knew he was just kept around to have his reservoirs of magic used up.

"Well, not in stopping those _nasty _Vipers, but I did manage to discover a spotion – my word for a spell mixed with a potion, isn't it just _brilliant_ – that could make you look like you were worth a _million _galleons! Isn't that just spiffing!"

"Can we get on with this, Zabini?" the mutt asked in a bored tone. Zabini's eyes immediately fastened on Black lovingly.

"Oh, of c-c-_course, _Sirius. _Anything, _for you." Black grimaced, and Snape had to stifle a laugh. Everyone else was just looking on with amusement mixed with pity.

Albus took over. "Yvonne? How are you going with breeding those sentient plants?"

Sprout shrugged. "I've got a bit done, Albus, but honestly, breeding actual thinking plants rely more on luck than anything else. I've created the vacuum, but we'll have to wait to see if any souls decide to go in."

Dumbledore nodded. "We'll have to see as everything progresses. Severus?"

Snape pushed away a plate and folded his hands on the table. "The Redeemer has awoken," he said solemly.

Immediately the noise level increased, as everyone started talking.

"What–"

"When–"

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"Snape, you little bas–"

"Severus, you might have mentioned some–"

"What hap–"

"What was he li–"

The Commander's voice carried all through the room. "Some silence would be appreciated." Immediately all noise vanished. Dumbledore smiled, said"Thank you,"and turned to Snape. "Tell us what happened, Severus."

The Potions Master frowned. "Well, it was quite an unusual meeting. The Redeemer seemed very disorientated when he woke, though that isn't really surprising. And then, he didn't seem to know what had happened."

"But that could just mean he was testing you," Black said, surprisingly without malice.

Snape shook his head. "No," he said. "When he learnt I'd brought him through the dimensions, he was furious. He actually spat near me."

"So, doesn't he want to be the savior of the prophecy?" Albus' voice was troubled.

"He said that he wouldn't become a tool again, wouldn't be used. The idea seemed to sound quite abhorrent to him."

"Anything else that happened in your meeting?"

Snape paused for a split second. "No. After he said that, I left the room." For some reason, he didn't want to repeat the story the Redeemer had told him. It seemed...too personal, like a secret that was only meant for him.

"But, he has to bring back peace," Lupin said, confused. "How can the Redeemer not want to redeem?"

"It doesn't matter what he wants," Moody growled, his magical eye flickering around insanely. "There's a prophecy to fulfill and he's the champion in it. He's the only one capable of carrying everything out, and if the little son of a bitch is too cowardly to want to save the world, then we're going to have to shoot curses at him until he does."

Lily looked horrified. "That's...that a disgusting suggestion, Alastor! You're giving him no rights at all!"

The auror shrugged. "It's a war, Evans. You can't stop for every old lady crossing the road. Sometimes they'll slow you down, and you have to roll over them to save more important lives."

Lily's expression didn't change in the slightest, and Snape rather thought that his own was similar.

The Commander sighed, and looked infinitely older. "As little as I like the idea, Alastor, you're correct. If the redeemer doesn't wish to get involved, I'm afraid we're going to have to make him." He rubbed his eyes behind his spectacles. "We cannot win this war any other way."

Snape knew that no amount of arguing with Albus would change the old man's mind. He wasn't really sure he wanted to, either. On one hand, he agreed with Albus. Merlin knew he'd sacrificed much over his life for the light, and not all had been his to give. Blurry memories came to him – of being a Death Eater, of serving Voldemort, of killing and torturing and raping – all for the Cause, so that he could get inside information.

But he remembered the story the Redeemer had told him, about prophecies and lives messed up because of it. About children and fate and everything taken for granted. A story, he realised, that still hadn't been finished.

The Redeemer seemed like he had been through so much already. He looked tired and worn-out and used. If he were made to finish the prophecy, he would likely be cracked beyond repair. But then, there was the prophecy. Which, if it were not completed, would make the Vipers rule the world.

Did the end justify the means?

Honestly, Severus didn't know.

000

At exactly the same time as Snape was contemplating truth and his conscience, a young girl of about sixteen was ghosting down the Hogwarts hallways.

From a distance, she definitely didn't look the sort to be breaking curfew. She was about 5'5, and ever so slightly overweight. Her hogwarts robes were, while plain, obviously of great quality, and the rectangular glasses sitting on her nose seemed designer. She seemed like the classic rich, snobby, ugly girl.

It was only when you went closer and noticed the mulish determination in her jaw, and the "History Has Rights Too!" badge on her robes, that you might think you'd been mistaken.

There was a slight noise off to the right, and the girl quickly moved to the side of the corridor, just avoiding tripping over her own feet. She patted her clothes. "Wand," she muttered. "Where's — wand, oh _come on — _finally!" She frantically tugged the wand out of her back pocket and murmured an incantation. She seemed to flicker slightly, and then had no more transparency than a wisp of smoke.

"–And Malfoy says, 'Hey Potter, you know what the difference between us is? I'm smart and utterly good looking, while your IQ is closer to the average cockroach and you _wish _you looked as good as the average cockroach'. And I say, 'Hey Malfoy; one, you're the worst liar I've ever heard, and two, we all know Nott's been telling you what to say to me for the last year. Merlin knows _you _couldn't ever think of comebacks better than "Potty" and "Four-eyes"'."

Two voices laughed quietly, moving toward the girl. Her eyes narrowed; Potter and Weasley. For all their rule-breaking, they couldn't even bother to be properly quiet. Too sure that no one would block their passageway, no doubt.

Weasley sighed. "I can't believe that git Snape kept us in for _four _hours! I'd think I were dead if it weren't for all the pain I'm going through." They were coming closer now. The girl grinned; what looked suspiciously like rat spleen was decorating each boy's clothes.

"Yeah, about that..." Potter's voice diminished, and the girl leant slightly forward. "You know...that secret patient guy?"

Weasley's voice was slightly exasperated. "Harry, that's all you've been talking about him for the last two days. Can't we talk about something else? How about girls?"

No," Potter said stubbornly. "I want to find out more. Why is he so hushed up? What's wrong withjust keeping him in the normal part of the hospital wing, instead of the special ward in Pomfrey's office? And what about when Snape said that not even all the teachers know about it?" He turned his head this way and that, subconsciously looking for eavesdroppers and utterly failing to notice the slight misty quality that marked a disillusionment charm. "What if it has something to do with the war?"

"Tell your dad," Weasley said, as though it were obvious. "I'm sure he'll know something about it; he _is _the minister, after all." The girl snarled slightly; any mention of James Potter did that to her.

"I – well...I don't want to tell dad about this," Potter said. "You know what I'm like, Ron. I can do this myself. I don't want go to dad about everything. And..._we _found him, damnit! I don't want anyone else to know about this."

"Yeah, yeah," Weasley said, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, did you find someone to go with you to the End of Summer Party?"

"Of course," Potter said absently. "Just because that slut Cho dumped me for Cedric Dickory doesn't mean that hundreds of people aren't lining up to be my..._hey, _you're making me get off-subject!"

Weasley shrugged. "Worth a try."

Potter laughed. "Okay, okay," he said. "I concede. No more talk about The Patient Who May Or May Not Be Involved In The War. For the moment. But I _would _like to see him again."

"Harry, you know we can't," Weasley said reasonably. "Not anytime soon, anyway. The security will have doubled."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The voices were diminishing now, as the boys got further away. The girl heard a, "So, how about you, Ron? You still dating Lavender? Got her in the sack, yet?" before they turned a corner and the sound cut out.

The girl took the charm off herself, and stood panting for a minute. That spell took a lot out of you. She then sneered in the direction the Gryffindors had gone in, and turned the other way, walking briskly.

Well, that had certainly been informative. One thing Potter and Weasley were good at was unwittingly giving information. But there wasn't really anything to do with the knowledge, so the girl filed it away in her brain to view over when she had leisure. Being a Ravenclaw had distinct advantages, and one of them was having a perfectly ordered mind.

Another was, quite obviously, intelligence. For which the girl was grateful she had. It made what she was trying to do so much easier.

Eventually the girl came to a door, looking exactly the same as all the others along the hallway. She turned the knob, and slowly pushed in open. It was a classroom; the charms room, to be more specific. One might not think that it would house such interesting objects to have a student break curfew to find it. Well, they would be wrong.

The girl strode across the room, until she came to a bookshelf on the end right. Reaching slightly, she pulled a particular book out, so that another was visible. She then pulled that slightly. The bookshelf immediately slid to the side.

Really, a secret room behind a bookshelf. The girl winced every time she thought about it. It was just so...cliche. But, it was perfect for her needs. As far as she knew, none but three people knew about it, and the first was her. The others, she was hoping to meet in the room.

The girl stepped into the passageway. The bookshelf slid closed behind her, leaving the room in pitch black darkness. A whispered _lumos, _and a dusty corridor appeared, sloping slightly downward. In the distance there was a little door.

The girl started walking forward, wand held tightly in her hand so her knuckles showed white. As she walked, she thought about Potter and Weasley, and if any information she now knew could get them in trouble. The thought was very tempting.

Potter and, by extension, Weasley, had been enemies with the girl ever since they were young children. But the anger between them ran a lot deeper than the schoolboy hate Potter had for Malfoy.

The girl reached the door, and slowly opened it.

It was a small room, with a fire blazing merrily and three comfortable lounge chairs spread around it. A girl with straggly blond hair past her waist and her wand tucked behind her ear was sitting cross-legged in the right one, bending over a book of some sort. There was also another girl sitting in the adjacent seat, though all you could see of her was her bright red hair. A cauldron was set in the middle of the room, not yet lit.

"Hey Luna, Ginny," the girl said, shutting the door behind her. The two looked up.

"Hello Allison," Luna said dreamily, sticking a bookmark in her book and closing it. "How are you?"

Ginny jumped from the seat. "You took your time!" she exclaimed. "You're the one who told us to be here on time 'or else there would be unimaginable consequences' and look what _you _go and do!"

"Sorry," Allison said sheepishly. "But I was held back by Lachlan McSmith, wanting some help with his History homework. And then I ran into the Golden Duo."

Ginny looked reprimanding. "I hope you didn't do anything you'll regret, Ally. I might not like my brother much, but I wouldn't like to see him shoved into the Sorting Hat with an _oblivious _spell on him."

Allison snorted. "No, this time I didn't even let them see me; I was a good little girl and used the disillusion charm Luna taught me. And guess what their topic of conversation was?"

"Suitcases?" Luna asked absently.

"Even more interesting. There's apparently a secret patient in Mme. Pomfrey's office..."

Allison explained what Potter and Weasley had been talking about.

"Well, that's some interesting but nevertheless useless information." Ginny commented.

"Now it is," Luna said serenely. "It might help us some time later, though."

"Exactly," Ally said. "We just have to keep our ears open." She looked around. "Enough of that. So, are we going to start this or what?"

"Did you get all the ingredients?" Luna asked.

"Yeah, I just said that I was doing an extra study potion." She grinned. "It really helps to have Professor Snape on your side. My ever so charming personality instantly connected with his the moment our eyes touched."

"And it definitely doesn't help your cause that his only real friend is your mother," Ginny said wryly.

Ally looked at her in mock outrage. "I can't believe that you don't think my beautiful aura wouldn't call him to me. I thought you were my _friend, _Ginerva."

Luna put in her knut of wisdom. "False friends are like a shadow," she said solemnly, not quite managing to stifle her grin. "They're with you while you're in the sunshine, but leave you the minute you cross into the shade. You'll have to make do with just me, Allison." Then she started laughing, and almost fell off the armchair. Ally and Ginny just looked at each other and rolled their eyes, used to their friends' antics.

Finally, Ally said, "Okay, okay, now lets actually get some work done, shall we? The animagus potion takes over a month to brew, and it would be better if we started now, before the ingredients go off and I have to ask Snape again. He might get a _tiny _bit suspicious then."

"No he won't," Ginny said dismissively. "You're Miss Evans' daughter." Ally snorted. "Not going to stop him from being suspicious. It's his nature. So anyway..."

And as the three girls prepared the potion, all thoughts of Potter and Weasley fled Allison's mind. After all, illegal potion brewing was a lot more fun than running around in endless circles of hatred.


	6. Chapter 5

A couple of people have asked about the way time goes by. Well, I think I've said this before, but if I need to, I'll type the date at the start of the chapter. But, as you probably don't want to have to go back to the other chapters and work everything out, I'll put up a little time line here:

**July 31st, 2005**, Harry goes from old world to new world, in which the date is **August 5th, 1997, **which would mean that he has gone back in time eight years as well as through universes. **August 13th**, Harry wakes up, which is eight days later and two days before the Decagon meets. Then on** August 15th**, meeting of the Decagon takes place, Ron and Harry have detention and we meet Allison, Ginny and Luna.

Now, on to the story...

**Chapter 5**

I drifted in and out of consciousness, thankfully sans fever. For the first time in what seemed like years, I was able to rest properly, without having to get up and get back to work feeling half dead. It was quiet with the silencing charms, and I had valuable time in which I could just _think, _something I hadn't done properly for a long while. No one came into the room except Mme. Pomfrey, and that was only twice a day to check on me. I pretended I was asleep and, though I don't think she bought my act, she didn't try to talk to me.

I thought over a lot of things, actually, mostly situated over the fact that I was now in an alternate universe. I could barely believe it. Of course, I knew that other realities existed — I'd learnt about them in my sixth year. But it had always been said that you could never get to them; that they were each separate, cut off from each other.Of course, it _would _be different for me. Ever since Voldemort had given me my scar, I'd been _special. Gifted. Different. _It made me want to throw up.

I absently traced my famous scar, and felt how much longer was now than it had been previously. Instead of stopping above my eye, it kept going through the side and down to my jaw.

"_Don't you dare, Potter."_

"_Shut up, Malfoy. If I can't get rid of it, I'm going to make it unrecognisable."_

_Growl. "Potter, stop being a dickhead and _put the knife away."

"_No." Pain, sharp and chilling. _

_A roar, coming from Malfoy. "Idiotic bastard! You might _die _now. That's a bloody _enchanted _knife!"_

_I stare, eyes dead. "I've failed at everything, Malfoy. I couldn't save Albus. I couldn't stop Hogwarts being destroyed. Almost all my friends have been killed, or are spending the rest of their lives as playtoys. And now, Remus and all the Weasley's except for Fred and Bill are _dead. _Re-Remus, the only father figure other than Sirius that I've ever known, and the Weasleys, my family. And, y'know why that is?"_

_Malfoy is silent. He knows the answer. I'm going to explain anyway._

"_Two reasons, really. One is me. I wasn't prepared, I acted like a concieted, arrogant arsehole, and I didn't realise until too late. But the bigger, much more important reason, is my scar."_

_I give a short laugh, devoid of all humor. "Because my mother used her life to save me, I was graced with a curse scar. Defeating Voldemort had nothing to do with me; it was all my mother's work. But barely anyone knew that, did they? And because of that scar, the whole damn wizarding world believed without a doubt that I would stop Voldemort 'again'. _

"_Malfoy, can you honestly blame me for wanting to destroy the most visible sign of my failure?" The darkness is closing in, so I may be wrong, but it seems as if Draco's face flashes understanding for a moment._

I shook my head, trying to rid it of memories. I'd only been seventeen then, and already bitter. A lot had happened since then.

It might not have been so bad that I was in a different world. No one would have any expectations of me, and I would be practically free. Even then, though, I would still have a nagging sense of duty; of a job not yet finished.

Damn the Prophecy, and my own annoying honor. I'd have thought it'd all have been driven out of me by now. Sometimes I wished I were more Slytherin.

But now…yet another thing that I was expected to do. Yet again I was given no choice. Once more, I was a tool; less than human, even if I was paraded around like a hero. I snorted. Oh yes, come see the famous Harry Potter, Savior of the wizarding world. Talk to him. Encourage him. Break his soul! Use or abuse at your own pleasure, only 50p a go. Roll up!

_It is my twenty-third birthday, and I'm sitting in Base, a bottle of gin in my hand. As I get ever drunker, it becomes harder to avoid thinking of a once-vibrant redhead that once shared a name with the alcohol. And once I think of her, it's almost impossible to forget what happened immediately after..._

_Snape stalks over to me, a look of faint disgust on his face._

"_Potter, really. Surely your alcoholic inclinations can be discontinued until darkness falls. We have to decide a course of action and, as pitiful as your suggestions are, everyone seems to think that you should be at all the meetings."_

_My head turns minutely, acknowledging Snape but not answering him. I know my eyes are bloodshot, and my hands are shaking slightly. I've never really had a head for alcohol._

_Snape sighs, rolls his eyes and mutters something like, "Merlin save us from all idiots." He then tugs the bottle from my hand, puts it on the ground, and hauls me up._

"_Wha…whassapaning?"_

"_I'm going to plunge you into cold water. It won't make you sober, but it might stop you from wanting to get drunk again."_

"_Why don' you just do the…y'know, wavy, swishy, magic thing?"_

"_I'm hardly going to use up my valuable magical reserves to get _you _out of a condition you shouldn't have been in in the first place," Snape hisses, and starts walking, tugging me along behind him._

_I sigh heavily; that comment about deciding a course of action has finally caught up to me. "Why duzevryone alwayz lookup to me?" I slur despairingly. "Evennow. They still wanme ta aid them. Help them. Save them."_

_Snape pauses for a moment. "Æternus Praestolatio," he mutters to himself, then continues._

Æternus Praestolatio.

Eternal Expectations.

I didn't know where Snape had got it from, but it was a surprisingly apt quote. And it seemed that it was coming back to haunt me.

But no. This time, I would fight. Never again would I become a pawn in a giant game off chess, expected to pull of astonishing maneuvers of greatness. I would not fall into the trap of believing I _was _a hero either; I'd learnt my lesson about that a long time ago. I would let people know, right from the beginning, exactly what sort of person I was. And if I had no choice in the matter, I would not go down quietly.

That I swore to myself.

I tried not to let myself think about all the broken promises I'd made in my life.

000

**August 16th **

Snape didn't really know what he was doing. It was just after lunch, and he was standing outside Mme. Pomfrey's office, an action that his brain seemed to have no input in deciding.

Albus was going to see the Redeemer later that day, to inform him of his choices (of rather, lack thereof). He'd been hinting quite consistently that no one should intrude upon the man before he'd been there, so what was Severus doing, about to practically disobey the Commander?

He honestly didn't know. And he didn't seem able to stop himself.

Softly Snape opened the door, to see Poppy sitting at her desk, rifling through papers with a quill hovering in her hand.

"Poppy."

The mediwitch looked up. "Severus," she greeted neutrally. "You've come to see the patient, I assume?" It wasn't really a question.

Snape nodded, and Pomfrey pulled the keys out of her coat pocket. He walked forward.

"Thanks," he said quietly, taking the keys.

"Don't be in there too long. He's still tired, even if his injuries are healed. And if something happens like three days ago, heads will roll."

The key turned the lock, and Snape slowly opened the door. The blinds around the four-poster were open, and he could see the Redeemer lying face-up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Snape was sure he'd noticed the door opening, though.

There was a chair next to the bed, that hadn't been there before. Severus didn't know why it had come, but he gladly made use of. It might have lost him his position of power, but sitting down often made things more comfortable.

Strangely, Snape felt no compelling urge to say anything; he just sat, patiently waiting for the Redeemer to talk.

"Tobias," the man said eventually, still staring at the ceiling.

"Excuse me?"

"It's my name. Tobias Thatcher. Use it."

Well, that was remarkably straightforward.

Still Severus said nothing, just examined the thin, scrawny man before him. He didn't _look _like the hero of a prophecy. Of course, that might be part of the deception. But Snape didn't think anyone could pull off an act that convincing.

He would have thought that, as little as he knew the man, the silence would be uncomfortable. But it wasn't. When it had stretched for over a minute, Tobias gave Snape an amused glance and closed his eyes. That was quite strange really; they hadn't exactly acted like friends the last time they met, yet the man seemed to at least partially trust Severus. Or perhaps his other senses were extra-sensitive. No one knew what abilities he had, after all.

Opening his mouth, Snape shut it tightly when he realised what he'd been going to say. He'd been about to explain to the Redeemer why everyone needed him.

Now, Severus was pretty sure that Albus had been going to tell him that, in a way that left no room for discussion. If _he _told him, Tobias would gain a lever with which to debate.

But, Albus hadn't been there when the Redeemer had broken down. He hadn't seen all the emotions; the pain, the despair, the anger. And also, Snape had an inkling that Tobias would know how Albus' manipulations worked. There was probably someone like the Commander in his world.

Mind decided, Severus spoke.

"There is a group of rebel Slytherins active in wizarding Britain, intent on destroying the ministry and putting their own form of government in charge."

The Redeemer opened his eyes, but didn't speak.

"In their first years, they weren't really much of a problem. They used guerilla tactics, and rarely destroyed anything of import. But ever since about five years ago, they've upped their attacks. Many more people joined them, and they soon had enough power to initiate intricate attacks and sieges."

Tobias winced, and Snape briefly wondered why.

"They began kidnaping, mostly taking children and pre-teenagers. No one has ever seen a child once they are taken. Also, they take ministry officials." Snape gave a humorless grin. "You do see them again, but the parts you see have often been cut off from the original body."

"Anyone in charge?" the Redeemer said, sounding nonchalant.

"Not that we know of. If there is, they keep it hidden.

"We do know what they call themselves, however, as they don't exactly hide it. The Viper's Poison."

Tobias' blinked, then quirked his lip. "How incredibly ironic," he said wryly. "Do they happen to think that their cause is just, and that the pain they inflict is for the greater good, by any chance?"

Snape raised a brow. "I have heard that expression expressed."

"Hmm." The Redeemer seemed to ponder for a moment, then in one swift movement sat up on the bed and swung himself around to face Severus. "Why the hell are you telling me this?"

Snape felt an urge to look around guiltily, but quashed it. "Why should I not?" he asked loftily.

"It gives me an advantage, 'cause I have time to think over the information and make a plan of action."

In a guarded voice, Severus said, "Perhaps I think that, if you are to win this war, you need to know all the facts, not just those Albus deigns to tell you." He looked down at Tobias, to see that he was staring into space with a faraway expression on his face.

"And it begins again," he said softly.

"What does?" Snape asked curiously, once again wondering exactly what the Redeemer had been through.

He looked up, and locked eyes with Snape. "If _I _am to win the war, you say. Not you Not we. Just me. You automatically assume you will no longer have to do anything." His gaze hardened. "You're wrong."

He leaned forward, until his face was no more than half a foot away from Snape's.

"I am not a hero. I am not a savior. I am definitely not," here his lip curled, "a _redeemer. _If you make me participate in this prophecy, chances are that I'll fuck it up, and make it a whole lot worse than it ever was before. And then—"

There was a slight creaking sound of the door opening, and both Severus and Tobias turned.

It was Pomfrey, looking at them both with a disapproving expression on her face. "Severus, really; you should know not to antagonize patients. And, time's up. You've been fifteen minutes."

Snape raised both eyebrows. "It's been that long?" He shook his head. "Very well. No need to get clucky, Poppy. I'll leave your chick for the moment." He turned back to the Redeemer, and inclined his head. "Tobias Thatcher."

"Severus Snape," the man said mockingly, a spark of anger still in his eyes.

The Potions Master turned around and, rolling his eyes slightly, left the room.

000

It was late afternoon, and lake shone golden with reflected sunlight. Three teenagers sat under one of the old oak trees and chat…er, did their homework.

The first was a tall and lanky boy, with the slightly hunched back of someone trying to hide the fact. His dark shoulder-length brown hair was braided with little silver and green beads threaded on at the end, and his eyes were an inky black.

Sitting next to him was another boy quite a bit shorter than the first. His clothes spoke of wealth, and of someone who made no effort to hide the fact. His eyes were a light grey colour, and his white-blonde hair heavily gelled. He was twirling his wand around in his hand, as one would a drumstick.

And on the side of him was the last of the group; a girl, this time. Her hair didn't reach below her ears, but it was layered and styled artistically. Her eyes were light blue, and had a bright mischief in them that didn't look like it could ever be dimmed.

They were all about to go into their last year at Hogwarts, and were all Slytherins. Their names were Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, and Blaise Zabini.

They were presently talking about what all seventeen-year-old teens would at some time; sex. After all, when you're young, it's a lot easier to focus on pleasure than dirty things like death and war…

"What do you think about Millicent, then?" Theodore asked. "She might not have a brilliant mind, but she's got quite good, _ahem, _assets."

"Merlin, no!" Blaise exclaimed. "Have you seen her _legs? _It's like she's never even seen a shaving spell before! Honestly, the day I lust after her, the world will come to an end."

"Theo looked surprised. "Really? I never noticed; truth to tell, I was always too busy looking at her chest."

Draco made a slight choking sound, and his friends turned to look at him. "Please," he drawled. "Don't talk about female's attributes in my hearing. It's positively nauseating."

Blaise snorted, and rolled her eyes. "It's not _my _fault that you don't appreciate the beauty of the female figure."

"Oh, so you won't want to gag if I talk about Terry Boot, and want to fuck him hard and ti—"

"_Stop_!" Theodore cried, throwing his hands out in front of him. "Draco, if you do one decent thing in your life it will be to stop talking right now. You're sending me mental images I would _really _prefer not to contemplate."

The aristocrat gave a satisfied smirk, and leant back on the tree. "See. That's how I feel every time you two go on about some girl or other."

Blaise pouted. "Oh, but _Draco…_it's so fun. And Theo's the only one I can talk to about it; there's only two other guys in Slytherin, and Crabbe and Goyle aren't the best at conversation."

Draco nodded reluctantly. "True. However, I would appreciate it if your discussion continues where I can't hear it. One thing I do not want is details."

"Fine. I expect the same consideration, though."

The teenagers sat in silence for a while, enjoying their moment of peace. Then the figures of Ron and Harry came into view.

Draco's face immediately darkened. "Potter," he growled.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Please, Draco. We're relaxing. Starting a fight with the Dream Team isn't something I'd particularly enjoy doing today."

Blaise nodded, stretching out on the ground. "We can prank them later," she grinned. "I'm feeling too lazy at the moment."

"I don't want to _prank _Pothead and Weasel," Draco replied scathingly. "I want to send him to the infirmary, and see that they stay there for three months at the least."

Theodore and Blaise just looked at him. Draco managed to glare back for almost a minute before he caved.

"Fine," he muttered. "Be like that. But when we see them tomorrow, you two had better back me up."

"Whatever."

There was another pause in the noise.

"Hey, you heard from your father lately, Draco?" Blaise asked eventually.

"_Not around here,_" the boy whispered back furiously. _"Do you have a _death _wish?_"

Blaise bit her lip. "Sorry," she said. "I forgot."

"If you forget again, it's very likely that your body will be found at the bottom of the lake, with weights attached. And I'll be the one that did the deed."

"She's freely admitted her fault, Draco," Theodore said, a touch of anger layering his voice and making him seem a lot more ominous. "She may have made a mistake, but she doesn't deserve to be threatened."

Draco looked like he was about to shout, but it died down when he saw the fright in Blaise's face. He sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry, guys," he said softly. "It's just hard, y'know?"

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. And Draco…I'm sorry. Really. If you'd done something like that to me, I'd be flinging curses your way right about now. Everyone knows Hogwarts has ears. I suppose I'm…just not thinking quite as clearly at the moment."

The girl was looking with a downcast expression, her cheeks pink from embarrassment. A bit self-conscious, Draco put an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay, Blaise," he said. "It's difficult at the moment, for you more than me or Theo. Everyone's memory lapses at some point."

Blaise nodded, and leaned into Draco's arm. Theodore came around and put a hand on her shoulder.

"So," the girl said eventually, her voice a little wobbly but with a spark of brightness in it. "Just lately I've been noticing this Ravenclaw a year below ours. Now _there's _a girl with great leg—"

Draco lightly hit Blaise's head. "Shut up, you," he said good-naturedly. "Or would you like me to regale you with the list of my conquests?"

"You do that, and you will be rediscovering the joys of the dungeons, locked down in the Chamber of Secrets," Theodore threatened, grinning. "Actually, here's a worse punishment; I won't let you copy my transfiguration, arithmancy or ancient runes homework ever again."

Blaise laughed at the look of abject horror portrayed on Draco's face."That's…not funny," he said, wide-eyed. "Theo, if you do that I'll die. Really, McGonagall will _kill _me."

"Not to mention Vector and Mancefield," Blaise chipped in. Draco groaned.

Theodore leaned back onto the grass. "You've got some studying ahead of you, Draconis."

"Don't call me that," the boy replied instantly. "It's not even my name, so you can't use that as an excuse." But he didn't argue too much, as he was still apologetic about what had happened before. Instead he lay back like Theo had done, and grinned. "Now, about plans for that murde – sorry, prank…"


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: August 16th**

At around six o'clock, Mme. Pomfrey came in again to check up on me. I was "awake" this time, sitting on the chair next to the hospital bed and reading a muggle fantasy book that had been left on my bedside table a few days ago. It wasn't really that interesting, but it gave me something to do and stopped me from remembering the past.

She bustled in, carrying a gooey black potion. My eyebrows rose.

"I don't remember drinking _that _before," I remarked.

The medi-witch looked up, irritated. "That's because you haven't," she said. "This is a new potion that Severus only made at the beginning of this year, and is designed to push the last vestige of illness from your body." She shrugged. "Most people just wait for their own bodies to heal them, but since you're going to be talking to Albus later tonight, I thought it would be better if you were free of pain."

I nodded, slightly dubiously, and was handed the potion. It didn't look very edible. I tilted the bottle, and watched as the mixture ever-so-slowly flowed in the direction I'd tipped it. No, definitely not fit for human consumption.

I looked up at Pomfrey disbelievingly and, seeing her stern expression, gathered my courage and threw the concoction back.

It was just as disgusting as I'd expected, but I could feel it working on my aches and pains as I drank, so I continued. I mentally gave Snape a pat on the back.

I handed the empty vial back. "Dumbledore is coming to check on me, then?" I asked nonchalantly.

Pomfrey threw me a sharp look. "How do you — oh, I suppose Severus told you the Commander's name. Yes, he is coming to talk to you in about an hour's time, to explain to about… certain things. After all, you're probably terribly confused."

I nodded in agreement, my stomach starting to churn. Albus was coming. I didn't know whether to feel excitement or dread. One thing I _did _have to do was think up a plan of action.

"Well, goodbye, Mister…"

"Thatcher," I answered. "Tobias Thatcher."

"Goodbye, Mr. Thatcher," Pomfrey said, and left the room.

The name wasn't something I had thought up off the top of my head, surprisingly. Back with the Resistance, it had been my codename. People couldn't have gone around calling me "Harry Potter" all the time, or my life span would have been shorter than the average ant.

It was actually a more comfortable name for me than my real one. After all, no one expected anything from "Tobias Thatcher". Except, of course, the Vipers, who knew who I was.

This brought me into another line of thought, one that made me grin.

The guerilla group I'd been a part of was called the Viper's Poison. Most of the people there saw themselves as the last defence — they were brave, courageous and utterly good, and would gladly sacrifice themselves if it would mean there were less Death Eaters in the world.

But here, the roles seemed to have been switched. Now the Slytherins were the ones opposing the form of government, and I was fairly certain that the ministry was trying to make Slytherin life as miserable as it had been for all the "light" people, back in my world.

Oh, the irony.

I decided, however, that now might not be the best moment to think of all that. After all, I had a master manipulator to best. I'd better have a plan…

000

I may have been expecting it, but the ominous sound of the door slowly creaking open nevertheless sent a chill of fear and anticipation right through me. I had put my Occlumency shields up at full power, and so I only faintly felt the Legilimency wave that had been sent at me. I immediately recognised the magical signatures, though. The sense of ancient power was unmistakable.

I was standing up with my back to the door, so when Albus said, "Redeemer," he didn't see the degree of disgust my face showed from the remark.

"Albus Dumbledore," I said, still facing away. I had to play my cards exactly right…

There were footsteps, and I slowly turned. I may have trusted him when I was younger, but I understood the Headmaster better now. He might seem like a harmless old man, but he was really a powerful, intelligent leader, and would go to great lengths to achieve what he thought would be best for the wizarding world.

There was no cheerful madness about this Dumbledore; not at that moment, anyway. He looked at me solemnly over his half-moon spectacles.

"I would ask how you knew my name, but I have a sense that you would not answer my question."

I shrugged, seemingly careless. "I'm a 'mystical savior', aren't I? Obviously, I used my supernatural mind-controlling abilities to find out."

Albus' eyes hardened, ever so slightly. I once again felt Legilimency pushing against my wards; sharper, this time. I knew they wouldn't waver, however. Dumbledore may have been overwhelmingly powerful, but I had managed to keep my mind from Voldemort, and the Headmaster didn't hold a candle to _that _Dark Lord.

We stared at each other, neither talking nor making movement. Unlike with Snape, this silence was tension-filled and uncomfortable.

"You are different than I had thought you would be," Albus murmured eventually. "I was expecting a… well, something not human-like. You are remarkably different from a god."

I only just stopped myself from rolling my eyes. "Story of my life," I answered evenly. "Everyone finds out I'm not good enough, eventually." I ignored the slight burning feel in my stomach.

Albus' brow creased, but he didn't say what he was thinking.

I gave a sigh. "So, why have you entered my humble abode?"

The headmaster answered with another question. "How much do you know about war?"

Ooooh, nice question, Albus. Have you been taking lessons from Snape, that you're able to bring back painful memories with a few simple words?

"The one you're having, not much. In general, quite a bit."

"Then you'll know that sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

I could see where this was going. "I hardly think that my participation would make a great difference, in the great scheme of things. Most likely, things would go downhill from the moment I entered."

"I very much doubt that," was the reply. "You are the prophesied one, you are the Redee—"

"_Don't say it,_" I growled.

_A dark and dirty room, made of stone. _

_A shape curled up in the corner._

_Flash of green eyes._

_Sparkle on a cheek. Tears. _

"_No. Please, no! I'm sorry, _I'm sorry! _I tried, I did! Please, believe me!_"

_Crying out, into the everlasting darkness._

Forcefully, I shoved the memories away, into the back of my mind. I shook slightly with the effort.

Damn the Headmaster. I hadn't even been feeling bad before he came, and now he had to bring up the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

"My name is Tobias Thatcher," I said coldly. "Call me that, or nothing at all."

The Headmaster inclined his head. "Very well, Mr. Thatcher. As I have said, sacrifices must be made. As much as I do not like it, I must do things for the good of the community. And one of these things I must have is your participation, whether you want to help or not."

Ahh, and so the player lays down his cards for all to see.

"No," I say simply.

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice," is the apologetic answer.

I take a step closer to Albus. Evasively, "Everyone has choices, some people just refuse to see what they are."

The Headmaster sighed. "I really don't want to force you, Red— sorry, Mr. Thatcher."

"Why do you need my help, anyway?" I asked. "What have you all stuffed up now?" I was rather curious too see how Albus' explanation differed from Snape's.

A slight frown, and a split-second pause. I was certain the Headmaster was thinking of what he could and couldn't say.

"There is an organization of evil wizards, who call themselves the Viper's Poison. Their goal is total destruction of the Ministry of Magic, and chaos throughout the continent. They are slowly destroying life as we know it. The children of my school haven't stayed during the summer for centuries, and now they are."

"What's the date?" I interjected, suddenly remembering something.

August sixteenth, nineteen ninety-seven," was the answer, Albus looking at me curiously.

Well, that was… unexpected. At least now I knew why Ron and I had looked so much younger. I'd gone back to when I was seventeen.

"And, how long have I been here?" I asked.

The Headmaster looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at my seeming avoidance of the main subject, but he answered anyway. "Eleven days, from when we brought you here."

It had been that long? Strange… but I suppose that it would take a while for me to get healed from the torture.

Wait a second. If it had been my birthday when I went cross-worlds, and the fifth of August when I came, didn't that mean…

… that my birthday was now the fifth of August, instead of the thirty-first of July.

Meaning that in this world, technically, I wasn't born as the seventh month died.

In this world, the prophecy Trelawny had made wasn't valid.

Well… I didn't know _what _to think about that. So instead, I thought of something else.

"You can't make me participate," I said carelessly, getting back on subject. "Nothing you do to me will make me change my mind." At the same time I was slowly taking steps around Albus, my goal the slightly ajar door.

"There are… ways, that I could use, to get you to agree," the Headmaster said.

"You're not going to damage me, Dumbledore. Not after you've spent all that time healing me."

"You are correct," was the reply. "I wouldn't hurt you physically. But there are other ways."

"You'll regret it," I said. "Everything I try to do goes wrong, eventually. You'll be cursing me by the end of this."

The door was only two metres away.

"No," said Dumbledore. "I know I won't. Because, you see, my dear Tobias, it is said in the prophecy that you will save us."

"Prophecies can lie," I said dismissively. But I was slightly curious, so I asked, "What does it say?"

Albus recited it, slowly and reverentially. "There shall come a day, three summers from the Kalaverael, where the Decagon shall bind their magic, and use the Sacred Mirror to bring The Redeemer into this world. He shall cease the fighting between the Snakes and the Lions, and he shall bring about the unity of the Sorcerer School, and he shall argue with the heavens, and bespeak with demons, and bring peace into the magus world."

"That's a shit prophecy," I said matter-of-factly. "I know more that are loads better."

At the same time I was thinking to my self, trying to glean what I could from the outdated words. Okay, so I was obviously meant to be the… redeemer. I assumed that Kalaverael meant "millennium" because this was 1997. The prophecy seemed to be saying that I would make Gryffindor and Slytherin friends again, unify Hogwarts, and stop the fighting in the wizarding world. I didn't know what to make of the "arguing with the heavens and bespeaking with demons" part, so I put it aside for the moment. "What does it mean?" I asked.

Albus looked slightly miffed that I had degraded the prophecy, but nevertheless answered my question.

"The words are quite obscure, really. What the Decagon and I have gleaned is three years from the millennium, you will come from another world into this. From there you will stop the Vipers, thus making the wizarding world, and Hogwarts, at peace again."

Honestly, right then I wanted to throttle Albus for his over-simplistic approach to the prophecy. He must have thought I had less brains than Gilderoy Lockheart.

But then I remembered that he thought I had little to no idea of the world I was now in. He seemed to think that I had come from a completely different place, perhaps where the world was run by horses, and humans were but an inferior race.

Well, wherever he thought I came from, there was still no reason for him to lie.

I nodded, and then dashed as fast as I could to the open door. Not surprisingly, it slammed before I could get to it.

I turned and snarled at Albus, who just twinkled infuriating at me.

"You will not control me, old man," I growled.

"Of course not, Mr. Thatcher," Dumbledore replied innocently.

I came up to the Headmaster, fury filling my face. "I've been through hell and back," I hissed. "I had no idea that there was _another _bloody prophecy I had to fulfill. And now I'm thrust into this unknown place, with no more than a by your leave, and it is _taken for granted _that I will rid the world of this 'evil'." I pushed past Albus, and threw myself on the bed.

The ceiling was now intimately familiar to me, as much as I had looked at it lately. I had memorized every crack, speck, and bit of peeling plaster as an attempt to pull my mind away from memories. I looked up at it now, while waiting for an answer to my outburst.

"I'm… sorry," Dumbledore said eventually. I was surprised — he sounded genuinely apologetic.

"When the Decagon and I found the prophecy, we automatically assumed that our savior would be someone who was bred for the role, and that they wouldn't mind at all. I suppose we all imagined some sort of… unearthly being, who had no real emotions. Like a guardian angel, or a god."

"But then I came," I said bitterly.

"Then you came," Albus agreed. "And we had to revise our options again." He paused. "The thing is, you are obviously the savior, because _you _are the one who came through the mirror."

"A mistake, obviously," I said.

The Headmaster shook his head. "No. Prophecies don't make mistakes. Nor does Severus, and it was he that brought all the threads of he spell together to make it work."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You have been involved with prophecies before, haven't you? You seem to be implying that."

"Oh, I know all about prophecies, alright," I answered darkly. "I also know how they can fuck your life up and make you wish that you'd never been born."

Dumbledore looked at me in pity, and I fought the urge to bare my teeth

"I assume that none of you thought of a way to get me _back _to my world, hmm?" I said contemptuously.

The Headmaster looked faintly abashed. "We never really considered it."

"Brilliant," I muttered.

There was silence for a few seconds, while I pretended to be thinking things over. I waited long enough for Albus to start looking slightly agitated, then I slowly slid off the bed and stood up.

"Listen, Dumbledore," I said. "I have not the faintest doubt that you and your precious 'Decagon' are dead wrong about me. But I will play your little game for the moment, as there is obviously nothing else to do. I will _not _be a willing little pawn, however." Under my breath, I whispered, "Never again."

The Headmaster looked relieved. "We are in your debt, Tobias Thatcher."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied dismissively, but filed the comment in my mind. It might be useful later, after all.

I was barely suppressing a grin at that point. I'd known right from the beginning that Dumbledore would never just let me refuse to be the savior because, by his reasoning, that would mean the light would fall. But now I'd let him know what I thought of his plan, and had made it clear that I wouldn't be used.

But one more thing was bothering me, something that I'd have to be _very _careful asking about.

"Are the Vipers the only threat to the world?" I asked.

Albus' brow furrowed. "In Britain, yes. There are a few things going on in Asia, but they're not quite as bad as what's happening here."

"Were there any threats _before _I came?"

"Well… there was Voldemort, but he was killed fifteen years ago."

My mouth went dry, and my heart started hammering. Voldemort, tyrannical ruler and sadistic torturer in my world, was _dead _here?

"How?" I asked. My voice sounded slightly strangled, but Albus didn't notice. He was too caught up in his memories.

He looked at me bleakly. "I killed him," he said. "We dueled, and I cast the soul destroying curse."

It had been that simple? That… simple?

I staggered, and fell to the ground.

Albus looked at me, concerned. "Mr. Thatcher? Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dumbledore," I choked. "Just — my ankle's not quite healed from when I kicked the door. I'll just, go, bed — lie down." I grabbed the bedpost and levered myself up, then lay on the bed once again.

I didn't talk for over a minute. There was a lump in my throat, and my eyes burned.

Was that all it would have taken to defeat Voldemort? A simple curse?

"If you defeated him, why can't you kill the Viper's?" I asked distantly.

Albus sounded troubled. "A spell like that takes an enormous amount of power from you. However, it is more than just that. Destroying a soul is a truly terrible thing to, and if you do, a bit of yourself dies too. Another thing is that we don't know who leads the Resistance, so we wouldn't know who to curse." He paused. "Anyway, you are here to take care of all that now."

Abruptly, the Headmaster changed the subject. "We're going to have to think of something for you to do when the school year starts, Mr. Thatcher."

"Oh yes?" At least now we were in stable ground. I had a fair idea of what Albus was going to make me do, too.

"Well, Hogwarts is a school, so it would only make sense for you to take the place as a teacher. What sort of magic do you practice?"

I snorted, and glared. "Nothing, if I don't have my wand."

Albus' eyes widened slightly in surprise. "You are a wizard, then?"

"Of course," I said. "And I'm not even very powerful." I raised an eyebrow. "Starting to revise your opinions on me, Dumbledore?"

The man shook his head. "No. You are the Redee — pardon, savior. No matter your power level, you will save Britain."

I shook my head in disbelief, looking up at Albus. I hadn't ever known him to be that blinded before, not even where I was concerned. At least then he had _tried _to train me.

"We will have to get you to Ollivander's… might be a bit hard, but we'll manage," the Headmaster said to himself softly.

I suddenly recalled something, something so important that it was a wonder that I'd forgotten about it. Well... I hadn't forgotten, really, but I was used to ignoring pain.

"Before that, could you do something for me, Albus?" I asked, urgency in my voice.

The Headmaster looked at me curiously. "What is it, Mr. Thatcher?"

"My animagus form has been taken away from me. Get it back. Please." Now that I thought about it, the separation pain felt doubled. It was gnawing at my heart, filling me with loneliness.

Dumbledore looked down at me in horror. "My poor boy," he whispered. "Who would do something so horrific… so barbaric…" He straightened. "We'll get you your form back," he said firmly. "Not now — it requires a potion. But as soon as possible.

"Now, back to the teacher issue." He looked at me speculatively. "Would you say you are good at making things up, and improvising?"

"Huh?" I looked at the Headmaster, bewildered. "Um, yeah, I suppose—"

"Brilliant!" Albus exclaimed. "Welcome, Professor Thatcher. You're our new Divination teacher!"

"I'm _what?_" I stared in terrified astonishment.

"The new Divination Professor," Dumbledore said calmly, eyes twinkling. "Professor Loreal had a conversation with a Hippogriff earlier in the year, and the two didn't quite get along. Partrige is consequently spending his time at St. Mungo's, and unable to teach the subject."

An ominous feeling came to me. "Isn't there… anyone else, who could teach that subject?"

Albus looked pensive. "Well, Miranda only finished school last year, and the only other seer I know of that is actually any good is still at Hogwarts. And the post is perfect as a cover."

"Aren't there any descendants of famous seers, or something, that could do it?" I asked, dread slowly filling me.

"Well, not really. The last was Sybil Trelawney, and she died over eighteen years ago."

I sat in shock, as I realised what must have happened.

"Fuck," I whispered.

Albus was hovering over me, looking concerned.

"Get out," I hissed.

"What's wrong?" I was asked.

I stood up. "Get the fuck _out of here_." I knew from experience that my eyes would be blazing green balls of fury.

"But Mr. Thatcher—"

"We'll decide everything tomorrow, Albus. Now, _get out!_"

Dumbledore left, slowly and with a few worried glances back at me. But I was no longer concentrating on him.

Everything made sense now. It had seemed a bit strange that Albus had defeated Voldemort. Surely he would have waited for the other me to do it, because of the prophecy.

But there was no prophecy. Because that goddamned Trelawney had gone and got herself killed, she had never had time to say it.

I dropped on the ground, and put my head in my hands.

If the prophecy hadn't been said, none of that shit in my world would have happened.

All the people I had loved would still be alive.

I might, for once, have been happy.

I wouldn't be the man I was now — broken and lost and adrift in a sea of hate.

Alone.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: August 18th **

It was just after nine o'clock, and the Great Hall was slowly filling with hungry students wanting food. There were only two of the staff sitting at their table, Sinistra and Hagrid; the former focusing on what she was eating and the latter beaming around the room. The teenagers were taking advantage of the lack of supervision, and proceeding to talk at the top of their voices.

Amidst the jovial attitude, one girl sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, a huge book lying where her plate would have been. She had bushy brown hair, buck teeth, and light brown eyes that scanned the book avidly. Her name was Hermione Granger, most brilliant student since Minerva McGonagall, and social outcast.

Out of the corner of eye, Hermione saw two people sit on either side of her. "Hey, Granger," one person said.

The witch rolled her eyes and, without lifting her eyes from her book, replied. "No, Potter and Weasley, I will not do your homework for you. It's quite disgusting that you haven't started it yet; you've had all of the holidays to do it."

"How did you know we hadn't done our homework yet?" Weasley asked, amazed.

"Well, it's rather obvious," Hermione said tartly. "It's hard not to hear you, when you're shouting about it in the common room. One would think you'd have more respect for those in the vicinity."

"You're one to talk," Potter retorted. "What about all those times you've come and shouted all through the room about rule breaking?"

"All for legitimate reasons," she said stiffly. "Less than I can say for you."

"Legitimate reasons?" questioned Weasley incredulously. "What's legitimate about, 'Don't go out after curfew — you'll get caught and I'll take points!'" He said this in a ridiculously high voice.

The girl finally turned her head, looking Weasley straight in the eye. The boy fidgeted a little, then, "Hey Harry, there's Malfoy and his cronies. Why don't we go over there?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "You're so subtle, Ron." Then he grinned. "But you've got a good idea nevertheless. Lets go!"

Hermione watched the two boys stroll away gaining quite a few appraising looks, and sneered. Then she went back to her book, occasionally spearing a bite of food.

A while later, Ginny came and sat near the witch. "Hey, Hermione," she said absently, grabbing some toast and looking over at the Ravenclaw table.

"Ginny," the teen greeted with a small smile, actually looking up. "Luna and Allianne not up yet?"

"No," was the reply. "Lazy bums, the both of them. I think I might go and give them a nice little wake-up call if they're not here in twenty minutes."

Hermione nodded, and went back to her book. They sat in silence for a while.

"Well, see ya," Ginny said eventually, getting up and leaving.

"Bye," Hermione replied.

The girl gave a little sigh as she watched the younger student go, then picked up her book and headed out of the great hall.

Ginny was the only one Hermione would count as a friend, which was actually a rather pitiful statement as their conversation never got beyond the, "So, what's happening at school?" "Have you finished your homework, then?" and such. Hermione had a feeling that if Ginny hadn't been such good friends with Luna and Allianne, they would have been a lot closer. But, oh well — sometimes you just had to accept what life handed out to you.

When she had got her Hogwarts letter, Hermione had (once she'd got over her initial sceptisism and disbelief) been thrilled. She would be going to a place where no one knew what she was like, and so had no preconceived expectations.

Of course, she should have known that things would be the same, even if muggle children had been swapped for magical. Everyone always felt a compulsion to degrade those they dubbed "nerds".

She had thought once, when Potter and Weasley had saved her from that mountain troll in her first year…

"_Is it — dead?" _

"_I don't think so…" Harry says absently. Hermione thinks, for a minute, that the boy might not have been so bad after all. Then, "It was only mine and Ron's Gryffindor courage and loyalty that saved you, Granger. You'd better be grateful." Ah, well. Dreams can never last._

"_I could have got out by myself perfectly well if you and Weasley_ _hadn't come," Hermione retorts._

"_Save it, Granger," the redhead says degradingly. "You were so scared you couldn't even _move. _You should have been in Ravenclaw — all dork and no bravery."_

_There's a sudden slamming sound, and the girl hears footsteps. She looks up._

_It is McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrel. They are all — apart from the defence teacher, who, after seeing the troll, sits down on one of the toilets and clutches his heart — furiously angry. _

"_What on earth were you thinking of?" McGonagall hisses. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"_

_Potter immediately splays an innocent expression on his face. "We had to save Hermione," he says earnestly. "She'd gone down to battle the troll on her own, and me and Ron were coming to pull her back to the dormitory. Then we heard her screaming, and we _couldn't _leave her to die."_

"_That's not true!" Hermione replies furiously. "I didn't want to fight the troll on my own! I was in the toilets because—" She stops talking abruptly. She can't tell the teachers that she's been crying because she feels all alone! It would make her seem like she's little and pathetic._

_McGonagall looks hard at Potter, then switches her gaze to Hermione. "Is this true, Miss Granger?" she asks._

"_Of course it's not," Professor Snape says, sneering. "Miss Granger may be obnoxious and annoying, but she is definitely not an idiot. Potter has obviously made this story up to cover his own inadequacies."_

_Hermione is astonished; the most hated teacher of Hogwarts was standing up for her! But then, she supposed that Professor Snape's loathing for Potter ran a lot deeper than it did for her._

"_Let the girl answer for herself, Severus," the transfiguration teacher says._

_Hermione gulps, then says softly, "It's true, Professor."_

She'd been sad, at the start. All through the first year, Hermione had cried herself to sleep. But… she'd got used to it eventually. She still wasn't happy, but she had her books, and they were almost as good as friends.

She walked through the door, and passed along the corridors. Close to the infirmary, she saw Commander Dumbledore and Professor Snape heading up to her. The Potions teacher was holding a black vial, which Hermione assumed had a potion in it.

"Miss Granger," the Commander says amiably, when they were almost side-by-side.

"Good morning Commander, Professor Snape," Hermione replied.

Snape looked up absently, like he hadn't been quite concentrating. The girl noticed that he had large bags under his eyes, whiter than normal skin, and was, ever so slightly, shaking. "Miss Granger. Good morning… no, I disagree. It's rather dreary, actually."

"Er…" Hermione looked at her teacher, confused.

The Professor stared at Hermione for a few seconds, then blinked his eyes slowly. "Coffee," he mumbled. "Need — coffee."

"Um, Professor, are you okay?" Hermione looked at the Commander, who just twinkled his eyes.

Snape put his arm out, as if to lean on a wall, but missed it by a metre and staggered. He uprighted himself just before he fell, and snarled at Hermione.

"I would be a lot better, Miss Granger, if your annoyingly high-pitched voice didn't try to disturb me while I was trying to… rest — no, that's not right, talk; no, walk." He then walked to the infirmary door; opening and shutting the door jerkily, as if not in full control of his body.

The Commander gave Hermione a wink. "Don't mind Severus," he said. "He's had a complex potion to brew, and has been without any sleep for two nights running." He then passed Hermione and followed Snape into the infirmary.

The girl stared at the infirmary door, a slight incredulous expression on her face. That had to have been the strangest that she'd ever seen Snape.

Finally she shook her head, and proceeded along the corridor: destination, the library. After all, it was the only place she felt comfortable, and not unwanted.

000

Severus pushed open the door to Tobias' room and staggered in, managing to put the potion on the bedside table before he collapsed on the hard, unyielding ground. The bed, he thought to himself, would have been a better option.

He was faintly disgusted by his exhaustion. In times gone by, he could have gone over a week without sleeping, and now he couldn't even last two days without turning into one of the living dead. It was humiliating.

"Hard night?" came the voice of Tobias Thatcher. He didn't sound particularly sympathetic.

"Shut it, Thatcher," Snape murmured. "All your fault. When I'm better, you die." He was even too tired to put the appropriate amount of venom in his voice.

The Redeemer sounded practically cheery. "Just the beginning of my retribution, Snape. There's a lot more to come." Then there was a slight sound of footsteps, as slippers padded out into an adjoining room.

Snape continued to lie on the ground, cursing the fact that he didn't have the energy to get up and fall on the bed. He was getting a cramp, too.

He wondered where Albus was. The Commander had come in after him, hadn't he? Why wasn't he in the room? Severus supposed that he and Poppy were talking about Tobias, and strategies to get him to reveal what he knew. For some reason, this made Snape feel a little affronted, though he didn't know why.

After an indefinable amount of time the footsteps came back. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Tobias kneeling down next to him.

"Here," he said, and thrust something under Severus' nose.

The dark, rich aroma of coffee filled Snape's senses, and all thoughts of exhaustion fled. He grabbed the cup and gulped it down.

"Heh, you're really not that different at all…" Tobais said, but Snape wasn't listening. The caffeine was going straight to his brain. That was the best time, when the exhaustion retreated and he hadn't had time to notice that he still felt terrible.

It was _Lalucey's Home Brew, _Snape realised. The strongest brand of wizarding coffee around, and the only type that would turn him to some semblance of awake after he'd been staying up for days on end.

The Redeemer stood up. "Feeling better?"

"Mmm," Snape murmured blissfully, for a second not aware of his surroundings. Then his mind came crashing back down to earth, to find he had a splitting headache.

He groaned, and Tobias laughed softly. He immediately gave the man a death glare.

"You sorely try my patience, Thatcher."

"I but live to serve," was the mocking answer.

Snape slowly stood up, trying not to move his head too much. "I'd have thought you'd be more thankful. And guilty. After all, I am in this state because I had to brew your ever-so-precious reaquanitance animagus potion."

Tobias' expression instantly changed to one of anxious excitement. "You've done it already? Where is it?"

Snape sneered; being tired brought out the worst in him. "Wit obviously does not equal intelligence. Why do you think I'm here, instead of sleeping off the next couple of days?" He gestured to the bedside table. "It's just there."

Tobias wasted no more time talking — he strode over, grabbed the vial and downed it in one gulp.

Snape had never seen what the results of that particular potion did. In fact, before Albus had come to him two days ago with a list of ingredients and instructions on their usage, he hadn't even known what a reaquaintance animagus potion _was. _As soon as he _had _worked it out, he'd been horrified.

Severus had an animagus form — a sooty black fox, completely camouflaged in the forest. Like a lot of people he knew, he was unregistered. But he had thoroughly researched the subject before deciding to go through with it, and knew exactly how the process worked. Becoming an animagus was not something to decide lightly, and had possible consequences that stopped many people from attempting to become one.

An animagus wasn't just a spell that you performed; a glamorie that wasn't really real. Neither was it a transfiguration, because you weren't changing anything. You were just bringing forward what was there all along.

The animal was locked inside of you, at the start. Before you became an animagus, nothing could happen to it. It was just like... a little voice in the back of your mind, not a conscience, but something similar. But when it was brought forward, it brought a part of your soul with it. Not all of it, but… quite a bit. The animagus needed it, though Snape didn't know why.

And the Redeemer had had his form taken away from him. It was… a horrific thought. Part of his _soul _had been pulled out from him, not to mention that he lost whatever attributes he had got from the creature, such as improved eyesight or agility.

It was no wonder the potion was fiendishly difficult to brew.

A dark glow encircled the Redeemer, swirling around in a circular manner. A wind picked up, making Snape and Tobias' hair and clothes fly around.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding light, and a magical ripple so big that it threw Snape against the wall. Instinctively Severus forced his tensed muscles to relax, so that when he impacted it didn't hurt quite as much.

He lay, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. In a flash on déjà vu, he recalled the scene thirteen days ago, when he had been in the exact same position. He'd been feeling sick then, too.

After about a minute, Snape felt something cold and slightly wet brush across his face. His eyes flashed open immediately.

Bright green eyes stared anxiously back at him from behind a long nuzzle, inches from his face. A long, jagged scar ran down through an eye, grey fur covering the rest of the face.

A chill went through Snape's face; the remnants of an old fear. "I'm fine, Thatcher," he growled. "You need not crowd me."

The wolf backed up; the anxiety in his face gone and replaced by a joyous exuberance. He barked playfully.

Snape shivered slightly; out of all the animals Tobias could have been, he just _had _to be a wolf. _Brilliant._

He was a rather scrawny animal, Snape realised, as he looked closer. His bones stuck out prominently, and he was riddled with scars. There were deep indents in his left hind leg, and in various places, patches of fur had fallen off.

He looked healthy, nevertheless. And Snape couldn't help noticing that his teeth seemed sharp and deadly.

But at present, he wasn't acting like a savage beast. In fact, he was behaving like a puppy, bounding around and yipping and rolling along the ground. He seemed to be having the time of his life.

"Are you quite finished making a fool of yourself?" Severus asked, irritated. Tobias gave him a look, then instantly transformed back into his normal, human self.

He was grinning brightly, face slightly flushed and hair rumpled. In that instant, he seemed slightly familiar…

_A laughing, five-year-old Harry Potter, running around the manor and playing with his sister. _

_He is completely different from how he will turn out in twelve years time, but then, he is only a child now. _

Snape shook his head slightly, dislodging the memories he would rather not think about. They were quite painful, as he knew what had happened soon after…

There was the creaking sound of the door opening, and both Severus and Tobias turned. It was Dumbledore.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said cheerfully. "What have I missed?" Snape saw the grin drop off Tobias' face, to be replaced by a blank mask. He was surprised to feel a slight twinge of concern.

"Nothing, really," the Redeemer said. "I took the potion, got my animagus form back." He looked at Severus, and gave a half smile that was nevertheless heartfelt. "Thank you, Snape."

"I but live to serve," Snape replied dryly. Tobias' lip quirked.

"Wonderful," the Commander said, eyes twinkling. He was in his batty old coot mood, Snape noticed. "Now that that's all settled, I think we have an appointment with Mr. Ollivander over at Hogsmead."

Severus' brow creased in confusion. "Why would we…" he looked at Tobias. "You need a wand?"

"You seem so surprised," Tobias commented. "You were expecting me to have supernatural powers, I assume?"

Snape glared darkly. "It's not an illogical assumption," he said. "You do come from another universe, after all."

"Children, please," Dumbledore reprimanded lightly.

Snape saw something indescribable flicker in the Redeemer's eyes. Then, in a flash, it was gone. "Well, let's go," he said. "I'd like to get this over with, if you don't mind."

000

The little brass bell tinkled softly as Snape and myself (Albus had left us at Hogwarts' gates, saying something about having to stay around the castle to keep the wards up) entered the small shop. I looked at the inside, and was amazed at how much it resembled the old Ollivander's; the two were practically identical.

The place still seemed wrong, though. Ollivander's was the most famous part of Diagon Alley, and its heart. For it to have moved to Hogsmead was… unnatural. Oh, I'd figured out the reason why. It would be suicide to have a shopping center so close to Knockturn Alley, where it'd be child's play to initiate a massacre. But still, it didn't feel right.

I didn't spend long looking at the shop, however. My heart was too beating fast. Ollivander was perhaps the only person that would be able to see who I really was, and not what his mind told him I must not have been.

See, I knew people. I'd seen the best and worst of the human race, and knowing Legilimency gave me an added insight into how their minds worked. And the primary rule about people, wizard or muggle, was that they only saw what they wanted to see.

That was the reason no one had connected me with Harry Potter. Despite our age difference, my scars, and the fact that that Harry was quite a bit taller than me, we still looked alike. But of course, there was absolutely no way that we could ever be related. We came from completely different worlds, after all. It would be impossible. Therefore, no matter how alike I looked, I'd have no worries that anyone would discover my secret.

Except, perhaps, Ollivander. We had worked together in the Resistance, and even though he had died shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I'd got to know him better. And his greatest strength was that he could recognise what pureblood family any person came from, from how they looked.

It was hard to stay nervous, though. The wolf side of me was bouncing around in joy, utterly thrilled that he was finally back. I was barely able to stop myself from grinning stupidly, but I couldn't hold back the gleaming light in my eyes that I knew had gone a couple of shades brighter. The eyes are windows to the soul, after all.

Snape tapped his foot impatiently. I noticed with interest that he was trying to conceal his nervousness. "Where is Ollivander? Surely he should be here by now—"

"Ah, Severus Snape," came a voice from the shadows. Snape and I started, though we had both been expecting something like this from the old man.

"Mr. Ollivander," Snape said respectfully. "Like Dumbledore has explained to you, we are here to get a wand for this man here, Tobias Thatcher."

Ollivander seemed to take no notice of Snape's words. He looked hard at the Professor, until he started to fidget. I found it hard to stop myself from laughing at the sight. Snape acting like a naughty child. Classic.

"Eleven inches, mahogany, dragon heartstring core," he said finally. "Quite flexible." Snape nodded slightly. "Of course, you don't use it much now." There was something a bit darker in his tone.

"I fail to see why that would be my fault," the Potions Master replied frostily, beetle black eyes hardening. He must have still been feeling terrible, I realised. It wasn't like him to show his emotions so easily.

"The ministry knows what they're doing, I'm sure," Ollivander said ambiguously. Then, seeming to dismiss the conversation, he turned to me. "Thatcher, eh?"

"Mr. Ollivander," I replied, looking him straight in the eyes. A slight smile graced my lips.

We both stood in silence, watching each other. I couldn't quash the feeling that the man was looking past my many masks and seeing the real me.

Eventually he nodded, and said, "Well then, let's find a wand, shall we?" He turned away, and I felt relief as the great weight settled on me lifted.

He pulled a great number of wand boxes out of their compartments, and piled them on a table. "These may do," he muttered. He gestured at me. "Come over here, Thatcher."

I came, and opened up the first box offered to me. "Eight inches, willow, unicorn hair. Good for transfiguration," Ollivander said. But as soon as I touched the wand, I knew it wasn't right. I waved it anyway.

The little bell at the entrance dropped to the ground, but nothing else much happened. Ollivander snatched the wand out of my hand. "No no, definitely not," he muttered. He dug into his pile, and pulled out another box. "Try this. Ebony, phoenix feather, nine and a half inches."

I tried wand after wand, but none seemed good enough. Snape was getting visibly agitated, even while Ollivander was becoming more and more excited. I felt like a little kid again, trying for my first wand. Of course, none would be as good as the original.

"Hmm, maybe… well, it wouldn't hurt to try," The wand seller murmured. He passed me another box. "Give this a wave, Thatcher."

I opened the box. And stared in amazement.

It was my wand. _Mine. _Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. My breathing became hard. I had never _dreamed _I'd see it again. Voldemort had destroyed it on my first night in Azkaban.

Reverentially, I picked it up. Instantly, the hidden magic in me came to the surface once again. I could _feel _the magic pumping through my veins, caressing my soul.

I gave a laugh of pure joy, and raised the wand up high. In greeting, it showered sparks of gold and silver all around.

The logical part of my mind was wondering why the other Harry hadn't got the wand, but I pushed that part far inside me. At this time, I felt almost whole.

Eventually, I became aware that Ollivander was looking at me speculatively. "That wand always seemed like it was waiting for someone," he said. "Just once before, it seemed like it might have allowed itself to be chosen." He stared. "Rather curious…"

I stared back steadily. "I know," I replied.

His eyes narrowed, then, ever so slightly, widened. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, you do." Nothing else needed to be said.

Snape gave Ollivander seven galleons, and we walked out of the shop. "What was that about?" Snape asked, trying to sound uncaring.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I replied playfully. In that moment, I didn't care about prophecies or expectations, or even my past. The wolf had been brought back to me, and so had my wand.

It wouldn't last for long, but in that moment, I was happy.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: August 22nd **

"So, what was Loreal Partrige like?"

Severus looked up at the Redeemer, and rolled his eyes. "Completely hopeless. If that man ever made an accurate prediction in his life, I would rip up my Mastery certificate and throw the pieces into the fire."

"That bad?"

"I assure you, there is so comparison. To be a better Divination teacher than he was, all you'd have to do is know the difference between green and blue."

The two of them were sitting up in Tobias' new rooms, as Pomfrey had insisted that since the Redeemer wasn't sick, he shouldn't be in the hospital wing. The place was the sort of en-suite that all the teachers had, underneath and a bit to the left of the Divination tower. Dumbledore had "politely suggested" that Snape spend time each day with the Redeemer so he didn't get too lonely (Severus suspected the Commander's thoughts went more along the lines of, "spend time with him so you gain his trust and he doesn't decide to screw the prophecy and run off to Australia"). Tobias didn't seem to mind the company, but if you hadn't seen anyone else for days and had to stay in a tower all that time (apparently none of the school children were allowed to see the Redeemer until the welcoming feast, and disillusion charms such as the one used to bring Tobias to Ollivander used up valuable magic), anyone would be welcome to stop the boredom.

"Green and blue?" Tobias said in disbelief. "Why didn't he know the difference between—"

"Don't ask, Thatcher," Snape said vehemently. "Even if Partrige was a horrific Professor, he took his duties very seriously. And on a day when he had a low level eye infection, he misinterpreted a tarot reading." He snorted. "Sometimes I think he's worse than Matthew Zabini. I certainly did when the whole school was holed up in the dungeons, reason being that Partrige had foreseen a huge wave that would destroy the school."

Something flashed in the Redeemer's eyes; slight surprise mixed with… something else. "Matthew Zabini?" he said. "Who's he?"

"An almost unbelievably ignorant, annoying, painful young man, who insists on flirting with me and drooling over Black." Snape noted the almost undetectable flinch Tobias made, but didn't comment. "He delights in "fixing" the school's inadequacies, and despairs that no one can work in a physically undesirable place. It's a good thing _he _isn't a teacher here, or I would go ill from the fluorescent pink adorning every surface." Severus continued to degrade Zabini, watching as an amused grin grew on the Redeemer's face.

Then, from outside, was the sound of people walking up stairs. Tobias stiffened, and eyed the door. Taking advantage of his distraction, Snape used Legitimacy to see who was going to coming up to the Divination tower.

When he'd figured it out, Severus gave a growl. "Black and Lupin had better have a _very _good explanation for this." He glanced at Tobias, whose face was completely blank, as though he were holding back emotion.

There was a knock on the door. Snape was going to get up, but Tobias put his hand out. "I'll do it," he said. Severus watched as the Redeemer walked away, a hesitancy in his step. He paused, hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath and then, ever so slowly, eased open the door.

The dog-brothers stood uncomfortably in the doorway, dressed in their best robes. Black was the first to speak. "Ah, um, hi, I'm Sirius Black and this is—"

"Remus Lupin, I know," Tobias cut in. He gave an extravagant bow. "My name is Tobias Thatcher. If you want to live, I suggest all sentences with the word 'Redeemer' in them are cut from the script immediately."

Now, that was interesting. He knew who Lupin was… and also, he had put up a mask. He was never normally that mocking.

"Come in, come in," Tobias said. Lupin and Black entered, both bewildered. Snape had a sense that that was what the Redeemer had been aiming for, and his respect for the man went up a few notches.

As Lupin walked past Tobias, his nostrils flared and his eyes opened in astonishment. "You're a werewolf!" he exclaimed.

The Redeemer seemed to stumble, then regained his footing and turned to grin at Lupin. "Almost right," he said cheerfully. "Wolf animagus — I've got less wolf senses in my human form, but no horrible pain when I make the change. I'm not surprised you made the wrong assumption, though; I've been spending quite a bit of time getting used to my form again, so I probably stink of wolf."

Snape decided he might as well intervene. "And what are you two doing, going directly against the Commander?"

Both men jumped, and Black even gave a little squeak.

"Shi…. Snape! What the hell are _you _doing here?"

Severus languidly stood. "I believe I am educating Tobias as to the history and customs of our world. _I _have been given permission by the Dumbledore. I doubt you can vouch the same."

Black glowered, unable to think of a comeback. Lupin was looking guilty. Snape was reminded rather vividly of his childhood, where this scene had been repeated infinite times. Except then, there had been four.

A spark of defiance came into Lupin's eyes. "We wanted to see the Red— er, Tobias," he said. "We wanted to hear his story. There are all these rumors going around; impossible, crazy things. We want the _truth." _

"Ah, but would you able to deal with the answer?" Tobias asked quietly, almost to himself. Then, "Oh you may as well sit down. I'll explain to you the basics of my life."

000

Remus Lupin was many things. A wizard, a werewolf, a Gryffindor, a Professor, one tenth of the Decagon — the list went on. But one thing he was _not _was an idiot. He hadn't been the smartest in the school; that place had been reserved for Lily Evans, James Potter, Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. But there were other kinds of intelligence.

He _noticed _things. If you had put said smartest people in an empty room with no wands and no way of getting out, they wouldn't know what to do. They would probably have a few fights, and when they realized that wasn't helping they would each try to think of a wandless spell or potion to get them out. But Remus would be the one calmly assessing the situation: he would hear the incredibly high vibrating noise that marked a silencing charm, and see the slight shimmer that showed a viewing spell.

A Ravenclaw in Gryffindor clothing, Padfoot had called him once. Remus rather thought he was the opposite.

And as he and his mate sat opposite Snape and the Redeemer, he wondered about the enigma the man presented. He was the person who would complete the prophecy. That much was certain, and made sense. But everything else about Tobias Thatcher was a huge bundle of confusion.

He had come into the world, literally minutes from dying. And his wounds… well, they weren't the sort that you would get from crossing universes, that was for sure. Remus had gone to see him on the second day, and had been horrified. It looked like he had been _tortured. _

Then he hadn't wanted to be in the prophecy at all. But surely he'd been bred for it, hadn't he? Of course he had. What chance of saving the world would he have if he didn't even know what he had to do? And the last, very strange fact, was that the Redeemer was human. How could a _human _do all those things that he was supposed to? Even if he was incredibly powerful, it just… didn't make sense.

Remus watched Thatcher as he stuffed his fists in his pockets, looking like he hadn't a care in the world. But when he sniffed the air, Remus noticed a slight ugly scent that was sort of a purpley-grey.

Now, that was interesting. The Redeemer might look comfortable, but he was really quite afraid. And it seemed as though he was… teetering on the edge of something bad.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Thatcher looked up. They locked eyes, and to Remus it seemed as though they were out on a clearing; two wolves fighting over who would be alpha. In an almost instinctive reaction, Remus bared his teeth. Immediately Tobias dropped his eyes, and Remus was brought back to the present. In that second, the Redeemer looked almost vulnerable.

There was a tense silence. Snape sat next to Thatcher, an unfathomable expression on his face. Padfoot looked bewildered, and Remus felt a pang of affection for his slightly thick mate.

"So," Remus said eventually, "you were going to explain things to Siri and I…"

The Redeemer took a shaky breath, and looked up, this time staring past everyone and into space. Remus noticed, disturbed, that his eyes were dead. In fact, they were exactly like Lily's had been just after the ritual.

"Thatcher," Snape said, voice completely devoid of inflection.

Then he closed them, and when he opened them the emptiness was gone like it had never been. He grinned. "So, what information did you want?"

"Oh, for—" Padfoot growled out. "Just talk, Thatcher."

The flinch was almost undetectable, but Remus saw it. He felt like reprimanding Sirius, who got irritated too easily and was terribly impatient. But the Redeemer seemed to get over it, and said nonchalantly, "Talk about what?"

"_Stop postponing the discussion!" _Sirius roared, standing up. "Get on with it! _Tell us about your life!"_

Remus could almost _hear _the sound of the Redeemer's mask breaking, the easygoing mischievous man gone and replaced with… something else. There was nothing hugely different, but he looked older, and his eyes seemed unnaturally bright.

He stood up unsteadily in front of Padfoot, and flung his arms out. "Ah, my life!" he cried mockingly. "My life has been just _great. _I've had a _wonderful_ time. When I was but a babe, my parents were killed, and I had something very major to do with it. _'Oh no!' _you cry. But yes, it's true." He gave a brilliant grin. "When I was fourteen, I effectively killed my first person. When I was fifteen, I effectively killed one of the only person who loved me for _me, _not for what I was supposed to have done. And when I was sixteen, I threw down the drain the only chance everyone in my world had at a _fucking decent life._" He laughed bitterly. "From then on, it was all uphill. My home was torched to the ground. Nearly every one of my friends were killed. My adoptive family were _slaughtered. _I sat and _watched, _while the person who was my father in all but name was _tortured to fucking insanity." _He looked at his hands, which were shaking. "He cut. And cut. And he was calling out, but I couldn't move and couldn't speak and couldn't do anything but _watch._ He… cut. Sharp. Pain—" a sob escaped, and Tobias stumbled the left. "Can't do this," he muttered. "No— can't." He staggered to another room in his ensuite, jerked open the door, and slammed it behind him.

Padfoot started walking toward the room Thatcher had gone in. Growling, Snape jumped off the couch and grabbed Sirius' coat.

"Don't you dare go into that room, mutt," he hissed.

Sirius turned, eyes narrowed. "Why not? I suppose you'd prefer to just leave him all alo—"

"No, Padfoot," Remus said firmly. "Just leave it. I doubt you'd be able to help." Sirius looked at his mate and, ever so slowly, nodded his head. He jerked out of Snape's grasp, and walked out of the room.

Remus glanced at Snape, who had fallen back on to the couch and was looking pensive. Then he followed Padfoot out the door.

There were a lot of things to think about.

000

_Almost, I almost made it. No — never now. All gone. I thought… I thought I could maybe just pull it off. _

_Almost had the strength. No — never now. All fucked. Couldn't do it. Too… emotions. Piled up. Too hard. Pain. Not physical._

_Almost saved them. One moment. One chance. Lost, gone… alone._

Images flashed in front on my eyes, showing my hopes, my dreams, and the moments they were all destroyed. I was half mad with despair, and filled with anger at my inability to do anything properly, ever.

_I thought I could get through it. Sirius, Remus— they wouldn't be the same, so it wouldn't matter. Wrong. So wrong. Different, yes, but same. Look same. Sound same. Smell same._

_Thought I could be strong, cope. They're not from my world. But…_

I crashed around the room, unheeding of anything in my way. My eyes were open, but I wasn't seeing. Great battles were going on in my mind.

_It's— disturbing. They're dead, but they're here. All of them. Mme. Pomfrey, Ron, Albus, Sirius, Re-Rem-Remus. And so many more that I haven't seen yet. _

_Oh, Remus. Your death is the one I hate myself the most for. You, who helped me, put up with me when I was at my most arrogant, and turned into the best surrogate father I could have had. Took me from the Dursleys after the siege; made me live with you, made me want to live again. And I just, just…_

I gave a cry of pain and fell against the wall.

… _watched. Too scared, too stunned. It happened to fast. Was in shock. They had me bound up, but I could have got out of it. Could have transformed. But I didn't. Couldn't think._

My eyes burned. I was dully astonished. I hadn't cried in years. Not since that day of fire and pain and death.

_It was the first thing you said to me, when you came in that day a month before you died. "You're a werewolf!" I wasn't, of course. I'd just become an animagus. But you'd said that exact thing…_

_Why does everyone I love have to die?_

I lay in that position for what seemed like eternity, cursing myself and wishing I'd had the strength to commit suicide when I was younger. Maybe then, everything would have been better in my world. No one would have put all their hope and trust onto me, and instead of waiting for me to kill Voldemort Albus would have done it himself.

After a while, there was the creak of the door slowly opening. Inhaling, the scent of many different potions ingredients reached my sensitive nose, and I almost sneezed.

Footsteps, then silence. I didn't budge an inch; just stayed sprayed on the ground against the wall. I found I didn't care anymore. What did it matter if Snape saw me with my mask down, almost completely defenceless? I was in pain, and if he was going to degrade me for it he could go fuck himself.

Eventually, Snape said wryly, "It seems we get into these situations an inordinate number of times, Thatcher."

"Shut it, Snape," I muttered, voice muffled by the wall.

The man sighed, then there was the rustle of robes. I felt dully surprised; he was sitting down next to me, on the ground.

We didn't speak. Even in this world, it seemed, Snape was the only person with which I could have a silent conversation. It was calming, really; anyone else would have asked what was wrong, but he just sat there, not really seeming to care if I told him.

Eventually I turned around and looked at him. Surprise flickered in his eyes (probably because of the tears on my face), before it was gone and replaced by the blank mask that I knew so well.

"_Potter, Occlumency may defend against Legilimens, but what does that learning that art help if the Dark Lord can read your face just as easily?"_

"_I dunno," I answered evasively. "If I got that close to him I'd be dead, so I don't really think it matters."_

_Snape glared. "That's hardly the point," he hissed. "I can see right now that you are being mulishly stubborn, arrogant, and uncomfortable with the topic. You are looking — perhaps subconsciously — for escape routes, and now you are beginning to get angry at me for knowing all this." _

_I stared stonily at the bastard. "Fine," I growled. "Teach me, then."_

"This bedroom isn't as horrific as I thought it would be," he said evenly. "The bed looks rather comfortable. Why are you on the ground?"

"Special meditation," I answered with a glare. "I have to experience hardships to be fully in tune with nature."

Snape snorted. "I hardly see how being uncomfortable can help you to centre your magic."

"Yeah, well, I'm special."

A while later, "There is a meeting of the Decagon on the twenty-fifth. Are you going to be there?"

I looked away. "Perhaps. Will Sirius and Re-Remus be there?"

"The mutt and his murdering sidekick _will _grace the occasion, yes. They're a part of the Decagon, so unfortunately have a right."

I started laughing, not able to help it. The sound wasn't at all joyful.

"Stop that," Snape said uneasily, when I'd gone on for over a minute. "It, it reminds me of the mu… someone."

I stopped instantly. "It's better to laugh, then to scream and go around breaking things, letting go of everything and losing your sanity," I said quietly.

It was about ten minutes before we talked again. Snape gave no great sign of discomfort, but I could tell by the way his nails dug into the wood that he was getting nervous. In my mind, memories were starting to run through my head again, playing themselves out and mocking me. More to send them away than anything else, I talked. "They… they remind me of people." Snape gave a little start of surprise that I had talked. He looked at me questioningly. "Si-Si-Siri… those two. Back in my world, they look like… people I used to know well."

"How well?"

In that moment, I almost told him everything. My mouth was open to explain just who I was and just how much I _really_ knew everyone around me. But then I realised what the consequences could be, and my teeth clenched. "They were friends," I said shortly, closing the conversation. Snape looked at me searchingly, but I'd put my mask back up and stared at him impassively. "Why don't you go back to Dumbledore, Snape?" I asked. "I'm sure he wants a report on your progress with me."

"Tobias," Snape said slowly and clearly, "Shut up." He pointed at the bed. "Now, you are going to lie down, and if you decide that you can't even follow the most basic of commands I will personally drag you there. Then you are going to drink this calming potion I brought, which just happens to also contain a mild sleeping potion in it."

I stared at Snape, my mouth open. "Wha-what?"

The Potions Master gave a sigh, then stood up. "Fine," he said. "Drag it is, then."

"No! No, I'm okay, I'm fine," I said hurriedly, standing. "I'm going, I'm going." I may not have had much pride anymore, but the last thing I'd want to do would be for Snape to pull me along the floor like a spoilt child. I walked over, and hopped on the dark blue four-poster. I then looked at Snape suspiciously, who had pulled a Potion out of his robes and was holding it out to me. "Why did you have a calming potion with you?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I use them a lot."

I snorted scornfully. "Yeah, right. You drink coffee, and that cancels out their effects. I'd like the real answer, please."

Snape glared at me, then seemed to deflate slightly. "I knew you were going to need it," he said.

"Why?"

"Because… well, it's complicated." He gestured with his hands, for once seemingly unable to express himself in words. "It was more of a feeling then anything else, and then I looked it up and it turned out to be true."

"What? What did you look up?"

He looked at me seriously. "You have your soul back. Before, there was nothing but emptiness where the feelings should have been. Now you have proper emotions again, and you actually feel alive. Everything that was pushed to the back of your mind has come forward again. Of course you're going to break down." He looked at me for a long moment, then pushed the potion in my hands. "But you can also heal properly, now." He strode out of the room.

I stared at the door which Severus had gone out of, thinking hard. Was what he said true? Everything _did _seem more vivid, now that my animagus form and my wand had returned.

I found I just wanted to go to sleep, and think about things later. I pulled my wand from my wrist-guard, muttered a charm to close the curtains. I then chucked the potion back and lay down

I fell asleep with my wand clenched tightly in my hand, dried tears, and a picture of pain across my face. However, when I dreamed it was of contentment I had though was long forgotten.


	10. Chapter 9: Part One

**Chapter 9: Part One**

**August 25th **

**9.30pm**

I stared at myself in the full-length mirror of my bathroom.

I couldn't help remembering that time twenty days ago, when I had copied this movement. Had it been only twenty days? It felt infinitely longer.

Quite a few things were different from then, however. I wasn't on the verge of death anymore. No longer would I be kept in a mad Dark Lord's playhouse, completely at his mercy. I wasn't locked in an endless spiral of depression and self-hate, unable to dredge up a pinch of hope.

Carefully I studied my face. There was the now slightly more manageable hair, tied back in a low ponytail with a brown ribbon. Some had escaped, and was hanging in front of my face. There was the scar; visible sign of my failure, made unrecognisable by my ministrations many years ago. There was my expression, grim like a soldier about to go to war. And there were my eyes, for once without a mask covering them; sharp as daggers. But as I looked closer, there was something strange there…

I blinked, and brought my face closer to its reflection. There was a shimmer of something that I hadn't seen for a _long _time. I gave a proper smile this time, big and broad and real.

I didn't know how it had happened, but my will to live had returned.

I took in the rest of me. I wasn't wearing Wizard robes — I'd never really liked them much. No, right now I was wearing the clothes that I felt most comfortable in, almost an exact replica of what I'd had in the war. Military clothes.

The visible parts were a big dark grey trench coat, with military boots sticking out the bottom. Underneath the coat were pants of a muddy brown colour, and a slightly lighter grey shirt, both which were made of highly flexible and maneuverable material. I didn't wear any sort of ornamentation, and I definitely didn't have any light colours in my wardrobe. Not that I didn't like those things, but some survival instincts were too deeply ingrained to forget. I also wasn't wearing black. Black was flashy and stylish. Black was what they all wore in the movies. Black was also surprisingly easy to see. You… faded into the background better with grey and brown.

My wand was resting in the wand holster attached to my left arm. There were also daggers in various places around my body, with little charms on them to draw attention away from them, and also to improve accuracy.

Okay. Physically, I was as ready as I could be to meet the people that had brought me here.

There was a knock on the outside door. Listening with my head cocked to the side, I heard a low muttering, and gave a half-grin. "Come in, Snape!" I called, and turned and walked into the living room.

Severus strode into the room, face highly agitated. He glanced at me, not seeming surprised about my choice of clothes (which wasn't really that strange — after all, he was the one that had ordered it all) then, "You're ready? Good. Let's go."

"Whoa, why the hurry?"

He growled, and grabbed me. "There's been a slight change of plan," he said, pulling me out the door. I turned and closed the door behind me, and he pulled out a very familiar silver cloak. "Put this on," he said shortly.

I took it slowly. "What happened to the obscuring spell?"

"Not enough time, and we have to save our magical energy." Snape turned and walked away, then turned back around when he realised that I wasn't following. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "Come on."

"I'm not leaving until you explain what the _hell _is going on."

Snape snarled. "I don't have time for your petty insecurities, Thatcher. The Vipers are attacking the Ministry and Dumbledore's decided it's time for you to prove you know what you're doing."

My eyes grew wide. "Wha— _now?" _

"That was obvious implication, you stupid little boy. Now put the cloak on and _come!"_

Some things never changed, no matter what dimension you're in. They were pushing me around again, expecting me to meekly follow their commands. Like someone with no rights. Like a pawn. Like a _hero._

I could feel the anger coming up again. I tried to be a hero, and it had destroyed my world. Now I wasn't going to look out for anyone but myself.

"No," I heard myself say.

Snape stared at me in disbelief, which slowly turned to anger. "Thatcher, you know why you were brought here? To fight for us. That is all you're worth. Now _do your job."_

"_Why the fuck should I?" _I growled deeply. "This is all your problem, not mine. Why should I have to clean up the mess that _you _made?"

"Because I say so! And so does Dumbledore!"

If the logical part of my brain had been reigning at that moment, I would have wondered why Snape seemed so different from normal. He sounded almost hysterical, like he was only just stopping himself from screaming and throwing something. And there was a strange light in his eyes that reminded me of the Snape back in _my _world, when he would immerse himself in anger and biting sarcasm to hide his fear. In fact, this whole scene vividly reminded me of the time when Draco had been captured by Death Eaters…

But the logical part of my brain _wasn't _reigning at that moment — my emotions were. And I was utterly sick of people ordering me around. "_You can't tell me what to do!" _I shouted. "I wouldn't do any good anyway! I'm just one person; a wizard who isn't even powerful. The only thing I'm any good at is surviving, and making people die because of me!"

"Well, a whole lot _more_ people will die if you don'thelp!"

I was shaking with suppressed rage at that point. "You still don't understand," I said. "I'm not a redeemer. I'm not some noble, stupid Gryffindor — not anymore. I don't give a damn about the ministry."

"_I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE MINISTRY EITHER," _Snape bellowed, "_BUT LILY'S THERE, AND SHE'S GOING TO DIE IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ARSE AND SAVE HER!" _He glared furiously at me. For a moment, all I could think about was that he had actually swore. Then I concentrated on what else he had said.

In the back of my mind, I had known that it was incredibly likely for my parents to be alive. No prophecy, then no reason for Voldy to kill them, right? But it seemed I had subconsciously pushed the thought away from me, and it was only now that it came back.

"Lily?" I croaked.

Snape didn't see the emotions flickering across my face, caught up in his own world as he was. "Yes, Lily!" he shouted. "Lily Evans, the only person other than Albus that I respect. My only friend, Lily!" He turned and leant his head against the wall, breathing hard.

I stared sightlessly at Severus. My mother was trapped in the Ministry? Would she become yet another person dead through my actions? Yet another sign I was special, I thought to myself bitterly. Not many sons got to kill their mothers twice. Was this to be my life: slowly destroying everyone around me until I was all alone and —

_No. You will _not _do this. _The thought came from the part of me that was the wolf, and it seemed furious with my human side. _She is _pack. _You may do anything else, but you will look out for and defend pack. You will not sit by like an arrogant cat and stay out of battle! _

Snape was looking at me now, standing and glaring in disgust. I hardly noticed, listening as I was no my inner animal.

For the first time in years I was suddenly, intensely ashamed of myself. I wondered what I would have thought at fifteen, had I been told that, ten years later, I would refuse to save my mother. Probably be convinced I was under the Polyjuice.

I felt a feeling of determination enter me, rising past the anger and shame. I didn't particularly care about the war going on, and I'd only heard one side of the story anyway; it was likely that the Vipers of this world had ample reason to bring it about. But Lily _was _pack, even if I didn't yet know her, and I would protect her.

I met Severus' eyes, and slowly nodded my head. "Lead on," I said quietly, and threw the cloak over my head.

000

We stood in front of the gargoyle which would lead to Dumbledore's office. "You can take the cloak off now," Snape said, anxiety evident in his voice if not his expression.

I did so, and looked at the Potions Master solemnly. "What now?"

He ground his teeth. "I would think it rather self explanatory, Thatcher. We go past the Guardian and into the Commander's office."

Even with my heart beating at an ever increasing rate and the familiar fear of battle entering my body, I was curious. "Why do you call him 'Commander'?" I asked. "He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts, isn't he? Why don't you call him that?"

"Not _now, _Thatcher," Severus snapped, glaring at me. "If I survive this night you may ask me again." He turned to the gargoyle, and said, "Severus Snape, head of Slytherin and one Tenth of the Decagon, and Tobias Thatcher."

For a second I wondered if it was going to accept that name from me; it wasn't the name I had been given at birth, after all. But the gargoyle's eyes glowed yellow, and slowly it swung to the side. Mentally I shrugged — it was very likely that my subconscious thought that "Tobias Thatcher" was more real a name than "Harry Potter", for all it was made up.

Snape walked up the stairs and I followed, hands in my coat pockets to make their shaking unnoticeable.

_You can do this, _my wolf side told me encouragingly. _Don't hesitate. Don't think about the future — it is a stupid thing to worry over something that hasn't happened yet. And straighten your back. Look intimidating. _He sniffed. _Even we can understand the value of seeming strong. _

I didn't fully understand the wolf side of myself. He was definitely a part of me, with all my memories, emotions and quirks. I knew he was a part of my soul, but I think that I was also a part of his. It was… complicated. He talked of me in third person, instead of first. And he seemed to be in the back of my mind, so that I sometimes took for granted that he was there. But when I transformed it was _he _who was in control, and me who took the backseat in _his_ mind.

I asked Bill about it once, when we were on a mission together. He hadn't given a direct answer, but instead said, "I'd always thought that there was someone else in me, pushing subconscious bits of information to the forefront and reprimanding me when I'd done something wrong. I used to think it was my conscience, but surely a conscience wouldn't swear that much." He'd given a sad smile. "Maybe when you become an animagus, the voice becomes clearer. Maybe if it had become clearer to me, I would have listened to it more. Maybe, it I had listened to it more, I'd still have my..."

We reached Albus' room, and I stopped for a moment, trying to gain confidence. Then I strode inside.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, brow creased and looking over papers. When we came in, he looked up. "Ah, Severus and Mr. Thatcher. I trust you are both well? Good. Follow me." He stood, and lead us to an inner door.

I had only seen this room once in my world, the night... the night all hope was lost. It was a room to use only when no others were available, Albus had told me. It may have been completely safe from outsiders, but there was so much magic flowing through it that it had grown unstable.

There were only five people inside: Sirius, Minerva, Flitwick, Sprout and Moody. I did the math, and found that, for a Decagon, they were a bit lacking. With Dumbledore and Snape there were only seven. Who were the others? Remus was probably one (it was very unlikely that Sirius would keep a secret from his lover), but where was he? And I had a suspicion that Lily was another. But then, who was the last? Another teacher, perhaps? Maybe it was even my fath... no, I wouldn't go there.

As soon as I entered, all noise stopped and all eyes rested on me. I felt their assessing gazes, and raised an eyebrow. "Why, I was under the impression that we were about to engage in a rescue mission, not a Lets-Make-Sure-The-Savior-Can-Bring-About-The-Prophecy party. I understand this is the first time I've met a lot of you, but can we cut the introductions and get to the action?"

There was silence for a moment, then Moody said, "See here, Thatcher. You may be the Redee–"

"Alastor, we can discuss this later," Minerva said sharply. "I think we have more pressing issues on our hands than impudence."

"Yeah," growled Sirius. "Like getting my three best friends back." I glanced at him, and suddenly realised why Remus wasn't there. I went completely cold.

_No, _I thought. _Not you too. I don't want to lose you again... _

_And you won't. You'll get the pack leader out, as well as our mother._

"We need to discuss a plan of action," Dumbledore said. "There have already been forty aurors dispatched, as well as ten aurors in training, five squads of plain soldiers and the people stuck in the ministry themselves. The Vipers Poison has about fifty trained Dark Wizards in the ministry building at this moment." His voice turned contemplating. "I wonder what they think they'll gain by infiltrating the place. It isn't like they would succeed, and even if they did we would easily take it back from them..."

My mind tuned out the talking and fell into a habit that had been vital all through the war – second guessing the enemy.

They were obviously smart, so there were really only two reasons that they would initiate an attack like that: as a diversion, or because there was something in the ministry that they desperately wanted or needed. I didn't know them well enough to figure out which option was right, but if they had more in common with _my _resistance than just its name, it would probably be the latter. After all, if there was nothing of value in the place it would have been blown up by now.

"... and I'd suggest that we go out in full regalia, so as to intimidate them and –"

"Excuse me?" I looked at Dumbledore disbelievingly. "Are all of you actually going to go out and fight?"

He nodded. "That is the plan, yes."

"And you're not even going to _try _and hide from them?"

Sirius glared at me. "Why would we want to?" he asked. "Personally, I want to kill as many of those bitches as possible."

I shook my head. "No. Charging in is the worst possible thing you could do."

Angered talking broke out, getting louder and louder as everyone tried to speak to me. I rolled my eyes and waited for Dumbledore to call them to attention.

"That is _enough." _He looked at me. "Why don't you explain your thinking, Mr. Thatcher?"

My real answer would have been something along the lines of, "Well, I don't really care one way or another who wins the war, and I'm not even certain that I'm on the right side at the moment, what with the name 'Viper's Poison' being so familiar. There was a reason we made that name, after all, and I don't think the reasoning would have changed much. All I want to do is get Lily and Remus out, because I don't know what I'd do if I lost them twice. I don't want any fuss or heroism."

Obviously I couldn't say that, however. So instead, I thought of a connected reason. "You've already mentioned that there is no way they could beat us," I said, looking at Albus. "Why would you want to go into a battle that is already won, where you may be hurt of even killed?"

"To get Lily," Snape ground out, at exactly the same time that Sirius cried "To get back my friends!", Sprout said, "To help all those people!", Flitwick squeaked, "To discover what makes the Vipers tick,", Minerva said, "To save as many as I can,", and Moody growled, "To send those fuckers back down to hell where they belong."

I nodded calmly. "So you see, all of you, with the exception of the trigger-happy psycho – pardon, I mean Alastor Moody – don't wish to fight. Most of you want to save and rescue people. Now, what do you think will happen if you rush in screaming with battle rage, huh?"

The light dawned on Severus, and Albus' eyes widened momentarily. But no one else seemed to know what I was talking about, so I continued. "The Vipers will panic. They might make hostages out of the people we want to save, and say that if we go against them, they'll die. Also, you may very well give away yourselves as the biggest members of the opposition, what with all that running and screaming in bright costumes."

"Well, _Merlin,_ what would yousuggest?" Moody said sarcastically. "I would hear your infinite wisdom." Hmm, it seemed I had made an enemy. Not that I particularly cared. Moody had an odd sort of honor, and wasn't going to stab me in the back.

"You shouldn't be going in at all," I said bluntly. "You're going to place yourselves in needless danger. But since I know none of you are going to accept that answer, you should at least keep a low profile. Stay in the shadows, and do _not _deliberately show yourselves." I gave a small smile. "Call it a stealth mission. No attacking, and only defend when there is no other option."

Everyone looked at Albus, who was staring at me with a contemplating expression on his face. "You've done this sort of thing before, haven't you." he said.

I nodded. "You people may have fought in wars before, but you've never been on the losing side. I have. You pick up certain... instincts."

_Huh, more like paranoias. _

_Shut it, you._

I was already falling into patterns of movement and thought that I had developed in the resistance. They weren't anything flashy, but they had kept me alive. Silent footsteps, using all my senses to survey the area, crossing my arms so that I could secretly hold the weapons in my wrist-guards...

I wasn't sure yet if it was a good or bad thing. Most likely, it was both.

Dumbledore gave me a searching glance, and I once again felt Legilimency prodding at me. I felt an overwhelming urge to make my barriers visible and show him how much defence I _really_ had, but quashed the thought. Rule one: don't give away any more information about yourself than necessary.

Instead I just blocked him from entering.

Slowly, he nodded. "Very well. Let's see what you're capable of." He looked at the Decagon. "Mr. Thatcher will be taking charge tonight. You will take orders from him as you would from me. Any questions? Good. Tobias?"

"Thank you, Albus," I replied with a smile. We were equals now, it seemed. Then my glance turned serious. "Of course, you know you can't come, don't you?"

"Wait a minute," Moody interjected. "Why the hell not? The Commander has more rights than any of us to be there, and he would be _very _helpful if we come up against any magical trouble."

I rolled my eyes again. "Mr. Moody, there are two simple, yet extremely important reasons. The first – and most important – is that someone powerful has to stay to guard Hogwarts. Who's to say that the attack on the ministry might just be a diversion to get Albus out of the school, so they can lay siege to it?" I shivered, barely perceptibly. "The second is that, quite simply, his magical level is too high. If there's someone from the Viper's with a power scanner, they'll lock on to the source of the power in seconds, making our cover blown."

Dumbledore coughed meaningfully before Moody could answer me. "They are all good points you bring up, Tobias. In any case, I was planning to stay here anyway."

"Okay." I took a step back so I could survey everyone properly, and mentally went through the attributes that each of them had. "First question: do you have an animagus form? And if so then what is it, what's its colour, and is it registered or unregistered?" I looked at Severus. "Professor Snape?"

"I do. A black fox. Unregistered."

Well, that hadn't changed. "Professor McGonagall?"

"A tabby cat. Registered."

I looked at Flitwick and Sprout, who shook their heads. Moody growled, which I took as a negative.

"Mr. Black?"

"That's 'Professor'", he corrected me. "Yes, I have an animagus. My form is a big black dog, unregistered. Now can we _go _already?"

"Soon." I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the ministry building, or as much as it as I had gone in. But I hadn't seen it for years, so I really couldn't get more than a few sketchy pictures of corridors, the room in which I had talked to the Wizengamot, and a big veil...

"I really would like to get going," Flitwick said eventually. My eyes snapped open, and as if released from a spell, I went to action.

"There shall be two teams," I said, walking forward. "Me, Professor Snape and Professor Black, and Professor McGonagall, Mr. Moody, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick." I pivoted, and looked at Severus. "Where do you think the two people we want to get will probably be?"

"Most likely with the Minister, in his chambers," the Potions master answered distastefully.

I nodded. "Perfect. Then group one's objective will be to get back the two Decagon members, and make sure the Minister is safe and unharmed. Group two will act more like scouts, checking out the surrounding areas and trying to find out what the Vipers want to accomplish. You may give aid to the people in the Ministry, and I know that Mr. Moody won't be able to restrain himself from bashing in a few Viper heads, but please try to make yourselves as inconspicuous as possible."

As I had expected, they all looked at Albus. I was slowly starting to understand why he had the title "Commander". He looked at me, eyes twinkling. I felt a pang of nostalgia, but shoved it away. This wasn't the time.

"...Well?" I asked eventually, impatiently. "Do I have your permission?"

"Of course, my boy." Oh, so I was "my boy" now, was I? That was fast. Soon he'd probably be calling me "child". "Take this portkey – it will bring you to an alcove in one of the departments on the third floor. I doubt anyone will be there, but just incase there are I have put a concealment charm on the pendant. As long as you hold it, no one will notice you." He offered me the portkey, which was just a string necklace with a wood medallion attached. "Put it around your neck after you've reached the ministry, and when you want to return, say 'portus'."

"How am I going to contact the other group?"

"Every Decagon member has a mirror which they can talk to each other in. You can communicate through that." He looked at me solemnly over his half-moon spectacles. " I wish you the best of luck."

I walked forward and took the portkey, leaning forward so there was no more than a hands width between us. "So," I murmured, "did I past the first test?" Not waiting for an answer, I turned back around and gestured at everyone. "Well? What are you waiting for – grab hold."

I'd never liked portkeys much; they had bad memories associated with them. But I had to admit that, if you couldn't apparate, portkeys were pretty damn useful. A whole lot better than floo, at any rate. Heh, if we'd taken the floo over to the ministry, chances were that we'd have had a nice little welcoming party there to greet us.

When we were all touching the medallion, I looked up at Albus and gave a mock salute. Then I whispered, "Portus," and clenched my teeth tightly as we traversed over hundreds of miles in a second.

I felt like throwing up.


	11. Chapter 9: Part Two

I'm back! With another part of the chapter, once again incomplete. And another cliffie at the end; worse, this time. I never knew that the MoM scene would take up so many words…

I don't usually (read: never) make promises about when I will update, but I solemnly swear that Part Three — the last part — of this chapter will be up by the end of Sunday next week, Eastern Standard Time. For those that are too lazy to work out when that will be in their time zone, it's about a week from today. Oh, and sorry for the lateness of this chapter.

Chapter 9: Part Two

We landed right where Albus had said we would, much to my relief. Someone must have turned off the power, because there was only a dull blue glow encircling the area. I couldn't see anyone in the room, but I knew very well how your eyes could lie.

Immediately I sent Legilimency waves out around the room, as well as pushing out my senses. Apart from my group, no one was in the immediate vicinity. I searched outside the walls of the room, and was pleased to find that the corridors were empty of people for about twenty metres. I could only distantly hear them when I concentrated.

Since there was no one in our room, I pulled the necklace away from grasping hands and put it around my neck. We all became visible, and I examined the five people before me.

Of them all, Moody was the one who most looked like he was going into battle, with his dirty red cape, pants with buckles all over (holding a multitude of weapons, most arcane objects only sold to the paranoid) and roving eye. Unfortunately, looking like you were going into battle isn't the greatest way to present yourself in a stealth mission. In fact, Minerva was the one best dressed – she was wearing her normal strict robes and tight bun, and would fit right into any of the departments in the building.

"Okay," I murmured. "Conducting emergency meeting in old storeroom, about to come up against the enemy. What absolute fun." Only someone that knew me extremely well could have known that I was actually shit scared at this point. There were little signs; I stood completely still, my head tilted slightly to the right, my breathing came faster, and of course, there was more sarcasm and irony.

"Let's get right into it shall we? Group two has a free reign over the whole of the Ministry, but don't go out of the building, and stay together as much as possible. You get separated, you use your mirrors to get back together again. If there's an emergency... you've got an option on those mirrors to send a message to everyone, don't you?" There were tight nods. "Good. Do that, say 'those Viper's are hot', and we'll all come get you and portkey outta here." I got incredulous looks from everyone, and shrugged. "Well, you're going to remember that, aren't you? It's a whole lot better than code phrases like 'the keys are in the bathroom and Michael's having a rest'."

"Okay, yes, we all agree with you. Can we get on with this?" Severus whispered tersely.

I nodded. "Sure. Just a couple more things. When group one finds the people we're looking for, we'll send a message to you all saying that we have them, and what floor we're on. Then we're all going to go to the middle of that floor, and wait until we are all together. If the middle is being used by someone – and I'm sure I don't have to explain what I mean by that – we will get as close as we can on the right side of the commotion."

"Why the right?" Sprout asked.

"It's a bit easier to remember. Right is right, y'know. If you're giving people instructions right before a battle, you've got to make sure they're memorable.

"Oh, and another thing. Use as little magic as possible. They'll probably have detectors with them, and maybe identifiers too. We don't want the Vipers to know we were here."

"Indeed." Minerva looked at me calculatingly. "You seem to know a great deal about leadership, Mr. Thatcher. And magic."

"Yeah, I suppose I do," I drawled. "Isn't that interesting."

Moody growled softly at me. "Don't talk to Minerva like that, Thatcher. Answer properly."

"I don't know how I can answer, when there was no question posed–"

"Bloody hell!" Sirius exploded in furious whispers. "Let's move! Every second we stay here people are dying!"

That brought me sharply back to reality. "Okay, group two, move out. Remember what I told you, and stay quiet." They looked at me, unmoving. "Go!" They left, although Moody glared at me before he shut the door. I heard the group arguing quite vocally as they walked down the corridor, and rolled my eyes. Then I looked at Sirius and Severus. "Do either of you know the way to the Minister's chambers?" I asked.

Sirius nodded. "Level one, behind the statue of the golden lion."

"Good. You can lead."

Snape scoffed. "As Black has all the leadership qualities of a hermit on lacewingI don't know how he could possibly–"

"Snape!" Sirius cried angrily, voice still soft. "Please, can we for once stop this stupid hatred we have for each other? We can go back to being arch rivals tomorrow, but now we have an enemy to fight and people to save, and every second we spend arguing means there's more of a chance that Lily might die!"

Severus stared at Sirius, completely still. Meanwhile, I could barely contain my grin. My respect for my Godfather had gone up infinitely after that little performance. He might not have been tactful, and he might not have been incredibly bright, but he was smart enough to know that allies shouldn't battle amongst themselves. He also seemed to have learnt how to manoeuver people a bit.

"...Okay," Severus said eventually. "Let's get this over with, Black." For a second, it seemed as though there was a flicker of respect in Snape's eyes.

"Let's go then," I said, walking to the door. I put my hand on the knob, and turned around to look at Sirius. "Oh, and one more thing. Do you think you'd still know the way on all fours?"

"Wha – oh, you want me to go grim, do you?"

"Not just you." I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think I chose only us to get back your friends, when it would have been safer to bring more? Animagi are useful for more than just showing off with; especially unregistered ones."

Severus and Sirius slipped out the door, and I followed, silently closing the door behind me. It was almost pitch black, I noticed. I could only see the others because of my good vision, and I suspected that it was the same for them.

Snape opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head sharply. I tapped the wall to the right of me, where I'd noticed a little grill about the size of my fist. "Sound detector," I mouthed. Sirius' eyes widened, while Severus' narrowed. "Group two," he mouthed back.

I shrugged. "They'll be fine. Good decoys. Let's transform." I looked at Sirius. "You lead." Not waiting for an answer, I made the change.

000

And about time. I was starting to get fidgety.

Get on with it. You've got a mission.

I know. But you haven't changed for two days. Two days! How would you like it if I shut you up for two days? I gave a luxurious stretch, while the human side of me sent an apologetic signal. That's okay, I suppose. Just don't do it again.

I looked at my two partners, and gave the wolf equivalent of raising an eyebrow. I didn't really know what to call them, as my emotions were pretty mixed up on that point. They weren't family pack, they weren't heart pack, they definitely weren't mates, and they weren't enemies, but they also weren't insignificant.

Just call them "Sirius" and "Severus". It's easier.

I'll thank you to not interrupt me when I'm thinking. I don't do it to you.

Sorry. I suppose I'm just not as patient as you are.

I sighed. No, I'm just used to it.

My soul-brother held up a mental placating hand. When I get to move around the school, we'll prowl around the Forbidden Forest as much as you want. But now I think you'd better follow Sirius. I looked up quickly and saw my sort-of-Godfather slinking down the corridors in dog form, Severus in his fox form turning to look at me questioningly. Inwardly I growled, and padded after.

We went silently along corridors, slowly getting closer to level one. I used all my senses — especially my nose, which was the strongest out of them — to scout the area, not properly able to do that trick the other me did with Legilimency. I supposed some abilities couldn't be retained when you change forms, just like he didn't have the brilliant senses I possessed. At least, not as much of them.

We were coming up to the stairs next to the elevator when I heard two sets of human footsteps coming this way. Padfoot and Severus seemed to notice them too, because they halted suddenly and turned to look at me. Sirius' eyes seemed accusing.

I just grinned back at them, and jerked my head to the right side of the corridor, where statues lined the wall. I then slipped behind a bronze horse and lay flat, watching as dog and fox followed my lead. As soon as I was sure they weren't going to be blindingly visible to anyone coming (I had to give them some credit; they were both pretty good at hiding. Of course, they'd both been active in wars before, and that would have tuned up their instincts a bit), I turned my gaze to watching the two incoming people.

"Come on, Tezz," said one in a thin, whiney voice that I instantly recognised from my days with the Vipers. "I wanna get back to the action. Let's go." It was Kerosene, the only person better than Fred Weasley at producing explosions. He was a relative of Dung Fletcher, and he always seemed to be carrying a smell of oil and burnt objects. Needless to say, I'd never really liked him much. Then the bastard had gone and set fire to my fur, and I'd made my first enemy with no help from my soul-brother.

"No," replied the person called Tezz. That guy, I didn't know."Shut up, Kero, and keep your mind on what we have to do." He reminded me quite a bit of a grizzly mercenary, and had he been a wolf, he would have looked like a bigger (and stronger, though I'd hate to admit it) version of me.

"Maybe Jayden was imagining things when he saw the people appearing on the reader, and arguing in the bug," Kerosene said hopefully. "I mean, it'd be a bit of a shit move, wouldn't it? Seven people coming into a building full of the Resistance, on their own. What are they gonna do? Get themselves killed?" He gave a little chuckle at his own intelligence.

"I'm sure Jay would be thrilled to hear you questioning his authority, Kero. In fact, why don't you go talk to him now, and tell him he's wrong? I'd love to watch." I decided then and there that I liked this man called Tezz. Anyone making Kerosene uncomfortable was alright by me.

I was pleased to see Kerosene go white, and start stuttering. "Wha-what? No, I'm de-

definitely n-not questioning his auth-authority, Tezz. Nothing l-like that."

"I'm glad to hear it." Tezz sighed. "Let's just get this over with, shall we? The cause is just and such, but I don't much like all the killing that comes with it." He reached into his coat pocket, and brought out a Version 3 Detector. It looked quite a bit like compass, but they didn't emit a slight golden glow or show you all the magical people within a set radius. It was a bit like the trick my brother could do with Legilimency —

That is not a trick. It is a very powerful tool that I spent more than a year learning. And Legilimency shows minds, not magic.

— but there were more deficiencies with it. Like the one that was the reason I had got us all to transform.

I could see Sirius looking at me furiously, seeming to think that we were going to be immediately caught. I turned my head to him and yawned silently, them glanced back at the two Vipers.

Tezz tapped the object with his wand. Immediately the glowing light grew brighter, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to lose my night vision.

"They're heading downward," came the eventual comment. "Judging by the amount of magic in the place, there could be from three to eight of them." I heard another tap of the wand, and opened my eyes again. Kerosene was looking edgy; Tezz, resigned. "They're on the west side. Let's see if we can cut them off. We don't want them to accidentally find anything they shouldn't, after all."

They walked off, and I heard the slowly fading sound of Kerosene's, "But Tezz…"

You're going to have to put your hero mask on, dear brother, the human me said wryly. Not that I wasn't expecting it, but it seems like we have some more people to save after we've finished with this lot.

Bloody Kerosene…

Yeah, yeah. Enough reminiscing, more rescuing.

Patience is a virtue, you know.

Oh, let's not start this again, please. You don't think about the future, except in hazy pictures, so how could you possibly worry about it? You have no idea how hard it is to… hey, I think they're gone now.

When I'd made sure that I couldn't hear the two Vipers any more, I padded out from under the horse, and looked at the two rivals in expectation. Sirius stared back in shock, while Snape's eyes were narrowed in suspicion. I could easily guess what they were thinking; how come they hadn't been caught?

It was rather simple, really. I'm sure my soul-father would have figured it out straight away, smart devil that he was.

Speaking of Remus, don't you think it's time we go and save him?"

Yes, I replied firmly. I'd reached the same conclusion.

I loped past the two canines, and over to the staircase next to the elevator at the end of the corridor. When I was just touching the first step, I turned and looked behind me, and gave an exasperating glance. Seeming to remember what they had come to the place for, Sirius and Severus became animate, and followed. Or rather, Snape followed; Padfoot sped ahead of me.

I'd just started up the steps when I heard my Godfather yelp in surprise. My heart started beating hard, and I raced upward, Severus not far behind. I hadn't heard anyone, but Merlin knew I wasn't infallible.

There was Sirius, about halfway up the flight of stairs… and he was nosing a woman lying sprayed across the steps, on her stomach. Relief flooded me, and I sat down hard. It was okay. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dying.

Eventually my curiosity outweighed my relief, and I got up from my position on the ground and paced next to Sirius. I thought the woman dead at first, but then I realised I could still hear steady breathing coming from her. So, she was either knocked out, or asleep.

Mentally I shrugged. That wasn't my problem, and I didn't have time to be figuring out mysteries. I signalled to the two animagi, and we continued up the stairs. However, when we reached the top of the flight there was another unconscious body; a man this time. We didn't stop to look, but I was getting interested.

Padfoot went out of the stairwell and along the corridor. There was another fallen body, and another, and a couple more, all not dead but unconscious. I think I was starting to realise what had happened.

The Vipers put a spell on them to make them all go to sleep, my brother said, impressed. That's pretty hi-tech stuff; more than us Vipers back home could do, anyway. But then, they've got all those smart Slytherins…

Shh, I replied. You're acting like an annoying fly, buzzing round my head and distracting me.

There was actually a bit of light on this floor (I assumed that the little glowing lights on each side of the corridor weren't connected to the main magical outlet, and so could run independently), but only enough to give a small circular glow every metre or so. Still, I could make out the intricate carvings on the wall, and inlaid rubies. There were also statues like there were two floors down, but these were a lot more detailed and… Gryffindoric, that was the word for it. Lots of red and gold, and the animals seemed to all be wearing noble expressions.

I may have not been the best judge, having never seen level one of the Ministry before, but I thought it pretty unlikely that it had been like this in my dimension. The whole thing made me want to spew up my dinner, actually.

I wonder what drugs Fudge has been taking, other me commented.

Actually, it's a possibility that Fudge isn't the—

Severus nudged me sharply, pulling me out of my internal monologue. His personality didn't seem to be improving from seeing all that red and gold, which I found slightly amusing. But Sirius was walking on, so we continued, skirting the few fallen bodies.

…Something's not right, soul-brother said slowly. There are no people here. No Vipers, anyway. Why? From what Severus said, they absolutely hate the Minister. Surely they know where his room is. Why not take the chance to get rid of him?

Mentally I shrugged. I wasn't the logical thinker of us, being much more used to physical and day-to-day tasks. But being the good buffer that I was, I helpfully prodded at my other half's mind, trying to generate some answers.

Maybe… well, there's a couple of options, he answered himself. There might be wards around the place to stop them. But even then, there'd surely be some Vipers around the edges of the wards, guarding it. He paused, then grinned. It seems like my idea was right. They're here to do something more important than kill a wizard. They're looking for something.

Sirius stopped in front of the golden lion he had told us about, and to my annoyance, transformed back to a human. "Sorry, Thatcher," he murmured, "but this thing needs a password. Illuminum transforum." The lion gave a silent roar, and swung to the side.

I was on full alert at that moment; I didn't know whether to expect a contingent of Vipers pouring out of the door or a rabid Fudge. And, since Sirius had changed back, he was now visible on the detectors. But I could see nothing past the lion except a maroon entrance room, empty of people. I also couldn't smell them.

They could be invisible.

I realise that. But no one can mask their smell, not even Voldemort.

Padfoot walked into the room, me and Snape following. He seemed oddly familiar with the place, actually. And it was rather curious how he knew the password. I looked around, and noticed the couch, little table and various paintings on the walls. There was also a door on the side, presumably leading to the Minister's chambers or office. The room we were in now seemed to be some sort of waiting area.

Not looking at the other two, I trotted up to the door, put my nose in front of one of the cracks, and inhaled. Instantly I recognised the scent of werewolf, and gave a big grin.

Time to change?

Why do you always get to meet people first?

Remus knows what I look like. He won't recognise you.

I growled. Fine. But you owe me. Not in the mood to be gentle, I unceremoniously pulled my brother's mind to the forefront and jumped into the backseat.

Ow!

Sorry, I said insincerely, examining a mental paw.

I watched as my brother turned to the now human Sirius and said, "They're in there. At least, Remus is." I suppose it wasn't really that bad not being in control; indeed, when I'd first been, er… brought to life, for lack of a better word, I'd actually preferred it. But now the slightly contained space made be think about spending over six months in an endless void, more than half of my soul gone and not being able to move…

I shuddered. However bad it had been for my brother, it was infinitely worse for me.

"Well?" Sirius said impatiently. "Let's go."

"Sure," other-Tobias replied, and opened the door. Not seeing anyone inside, he took a step inside…

…And my breath stopped. Because, standing with a wand pointed to my soul-brother's heart and a grim expression on his face, was James Potter.

"Okay Viper. Let's get this over and done with, shall we? Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing up here?"

000

"Well?" Harry Potter looked with disgust at Allison. "The last time I checked you were a Ravenclaw, Evans. What are you doing in the Gryffindor common room?"

He was glared at in return. "There are no rules against inter-house friendships, Potter, and it clearly states that if you are invited by someone from a particular house, you have full rights to their common room."

Everyone in the room was looking at Harry and Evans at that point, with varying emotions. Some of the smarter ones were edging away. When the two siblings were in the room, things could get quite…heated.

"Well, who gave you permission, then?" He knew the answer, really. He just wanted to give himself more time to think about witty retorts.

"Ginny, of course." Evans narrowed her eyes at Harry, and the boy was struck with how much she resembled her mother. His mother too, he supposed, but he didn't like to think that way.

He thought of a good comeback, and grinned, pleased with himself. "Ginerva can hardly be considered a Gryffindor anymore, the way she hangs out with you and Loony."

In a flash Evans' wand was whipped out and pointing at Harry. "Don't you dare talk about Luna like that," she hissed in hatred. "You have absolutely no idea what she's like."

Harry was starting to get angry too, now. "I can talk about whoever the hell I want, whenever the hell I like. Isn't that right, Ron?" He looked around, confused. "Ron?" Come to think of it, Harry hadn't seen his friend since lunch. "Where's Ron?"

Evans looked up, a slightly anxious expression on her face. "Weasley's missing too? Oh shit." She turned to the direction of the girls dormitories. "Ginny!" she shouted. "Ginny, get down here right now!"

There was no noise. Evans' eyes grew wide, and she raced up the stairs to the dormitory. Harry heard noises like things being thrown around the room, and Evan's slightly shrill voice calling out Ginerva's name. Then she was sprinting back downstairs, breathless, eyes wild and fearful. "She's not here." She said in dread. "She's not fucking here."

"Who isn't?" Harry regretted the sentence as soon as he said it.

"GINNY!" Evans gave a cry of frustration. "Your friend Ron, too, if I'm any judge."

"Ron's miss—" A terrible idea formed in Harry's head. "What if they were both kidnapped?"

"No shit, Sherlock," Evans said in that patronising tone that Harry absolutely hated, even if he didn't know who "Sherlock" was. "Why do you think I'm so worried?"

"Because you're such a bloody drama queen," Harry answered absently, mouth moving of its own accord while his mind worked furiously. What could he do to find out how Ron was? It might be a false alarm, so how could he find out if he was still in Hogwarts…

The map. "Be back in a sec," he murmured, and ran up the stairs to his dormitory. He threw open his trunk and rummaged around until he found the rolled up scroll at the bottom. Then he dragged it out, brought out his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

There was a gasp of rage behind him. "You, you Potter." Evans hissed. "You stole my map."

Harry whirled around, then overbalanced and fell over. He glared sullenly at his sister. "It was never 'yours'. Dad made it, and since you don't consider him a father anymore, it's technically mine." Then, "What are you doing up here, anyway? This is the boys dormitory."

Evans didn't answer, she just strode forward and grabbed the map from Harry's hand, looking over it with teeth clenched and heavy breath. Harry forcibly stopped himself from saying an insult, and stood up, looking over Evans' shoulder. He was quite pleased that he was now about six inches taller than her.

Harry saw his sister go from incredibly tense to sagging in relief. "Did you find them?" he asked. She nodded, and pointed, then fell on Harry's bed. The boy hardly noticed.

He was looking at the Marauders Map, which was an ever-changing map showing Hogwarts and its inhabitants. A pranker's heaven, although he hadn't used it that way for over a year. His gaze flickered all over it, trying to find his friend (and Generva, he thought offhandedly. He was ever the gentleman, after all). And — there they were! On the fifth floor, on the left side in a room that…seemed to be floating in the air. And there were no staircases to get to it, and Harry noticed a helpful sign on the door from the Marauders, saying "never found a way to get in". Oh yes, Harry growled. Very helpful.

He chucked the map on the ground. "They're in an inaccessible room," he told Evans. "I don't know how the hell they got in there, though. It's on the fifth floor, and floating in the air. Bloody brilliant."

"At least they're alright," his sister replied.

"Not necessarily," Harry said darkly. "What if they were duelling and knocked each other out, and are both now minutes from death? What if there's some unfriendly creature in the room with them, and they've both forgotten the spell to get them out of the danger?" His gaze became hard and flinty. "We have to save them."

"Oh knowledgeable Gryffindor, I bow down to your infinite wisdom," Evans said sarcastically. "Have you thought on how we can get them? You say the room's inaccessible. What are we supposed to do, then — use our mystical magic powers?"

Evans opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off. "No," came a voice from behind them both. "I'll show you the way." Harry whirled around, and his brow knotted in confusion. For standing at the doorway to the boys dormitory was a slightly nervous, but determined-looking Hermione Granger.


	12. Chapter 9: Part Three

See? Even though I very rarely make promises, when I do make them I always follow through. And, whoa, look at the _length _of this thing! 9412 words! Heh, I admit I didn't write it all in a week, but still… And yes, this chapter _finally _has action.

Oh, and because I'm feeling lazy after all this writing, any spells I make up will be pure gibberish, and any relation to Latin is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 9: Part Three**

James and Lily Potter, Remus and Sirius were here in a room together. My adopted father, biological parents, and godfather, all who were really supposed to be dead. I was grateful for the dark fox standing around and looking bored — Snape kept me grounded.

I was still in a state of shock. I didn't let it show, of course; Sirius barged in the room to prevent James from sending an unhealthy curse my way, which gave me time to wipe the slack-jawed expression off my face. All of a sudden, it made sense why Sirius had known the password. James was the Minister of Magic.

Before I had time to contemplate on that, Remus and Lily walked in. Sirius had a peculiar expression on his face, seeming to alternate between being incredibly relieved and angry at the risk that had been taken. Severus had no such inhibitions, and, still in his fox form, bound up to Lily whilst yipping happily. My mother took one look at Snape and grinned. She started to speak, "Se—" then snapped her mouth closed and shot a glance at her husband. Said person was still glaring at me suspiciously, and reminding me quite painfully of myself in fifth and sixth year; glasses, short messy hair and all. Honestly, why did he _need _to keep wearing glasses? They were easy enough to get rid of when you'd finished growing into yourself, and your magic had settled down.

And how was I feeling about all this, you ask? Well, the strangest thing to me was that I wasn't concentrating on my "real" parents so much as Remus, who, after exchanging a meaningful glance with Sirius, turned his attention to me. With a flash of intensity I recalled the last time I'd spoken to him, but I refused to be embarrassed. Instead, I just raised an eyebrow.

He gave a nod of acknowledgement in return, with that familiar half-smile flickering on his face. A stab of pain jaggered along my heart, but along with that there was a little spark of, if not happiness, then acceptance. He might not have been the real thing, and I knew he wasn't the same as in my world, but it seemed like there was at least a touch of the Remus I'd used to know.

Maybe Severus was right. Maybe I was healing.

James crossed his arms. "Okay," he said to me. "If you're not a Viper, then who are you? I don't think I've ever seen you before." He looked more closely. "Though you _do _seem slightly familiar."

I rolled my eyes and was about to say something along the lines of, hey, what do you expect, I _am _the supposed "savior of the wizarding world". Of course you haven't seen me. But before I could speak, Remus cut in. "He's an auror, Prongs," he said, shooting me a meaningful look. "He's from Moody's new squad, so that would be why you haven't seen him around much."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "He was born in England, but went to live in…er…Australia when he was twelve. He was involved in the War of the Colonies, so knows a lot about fighting dirty."

I judged things in a split second. For whatever reason, no one seemed to want James to know about me. But, wasn't he the last member of the Decagon? That's what I'd assumed, but it seemed like I was wrong…

I decided to take their lead, and ask about it later. I bowed at James. "An honor to meet you, Minister," I said respectfully, hoping that I wasn't mistaken about that as well. But the man seemed to swell slightly in pride, and I knew I'd guessed right.

Then there was a snort from behind me, and we both turned; it was Severus the fox, looking slightly disgusted at my reverence to his rival. I smiled apologetically at my biological father. "Sorry, Sir. That's Rus, my familiar. He gets disrespectful before a battle." I wasn't going to reveal Snape if he didn't want to be known, but I _was _going to be questioning everyone pretty thoroughly after I'd finished my work here. They should have told me what I couldn't say before I went in; if I were a few years younger, I probably would have missed the signs and blundered everything up. Even if it was meant to be a test, it was poor taste.

Then, from inside Sirius' coat, there was a sharp spitting noise and a glow. We all turned in his direction, and he cursed and brought a mirror out of his robes — the communication mirror. "What?" he hissed angrily at it.

The person in the mirror talked through clenched teeth, "Those Viper's are hot. We could really use some help. Level seven, currently in front of the international Quidditch office. Heading right." It immediately cut off.

There was silence for a second, then Lily coughed meaningfully. "Er, what did he mean, 'those Vipers are hot'?"

"Codeword. Some aurors having trouble, asking for assistance," I said, my mind elsewhere.

_It's so hard to understand you when you go tactical, _wolf complained.

_Shush, you, _I replied. _I need to concentrate. _Flashing like lightning, various options were going through my head, and I was weighing up the pros and cons of each of them.

There was a noise, and I looked over to see Lily pulling on a long, dark coat over her pale robe. "Let's go, then," she said. She pulled out a wand, and I had to admit she looked formidable.

"But you can't leave!" That was James. "It's, it's dangerous out there!" He actually sounded more angry than worried.

My mother glared at him, and when she spoke her voice was low and venomous. "You forfeited any claim you might have had over me long ago, James Charlie Potter. Don't you _dare _try and tell me what to do."

Unintentionally, my brow furrowed. What…

"As far as I remember, _you _are the one that forfeited, not me."

"And why was that, hmm? You didn't believe me, and now look what's happened to the world!"

"Evans," James hissed, "you do _not _have visions. You do have hallucinations, which is a very different thing."

"Oh yeah? Then how did I know you were going to be Minister before it happened? How did I know when Harry broke his leg falling out of that tree? How did I know I was going to divorce you? And how did I know you were going to do such abominably horrible things to Slytherins? Power has really gone to your brain, hasn't it, _Potter." _

There was a soft thud of something falling, and I dimly realised it was myself. Lily and James didn't notice, but I could feel Remus' gaze resting calculatingly on me, putting together facts. I didn't really care at that point. _Bloody fuck …_

_They un-mated. _My brother sounded horrified.

"Slytherins are _scum, _Evans, and don't you ever forget it." Severus growled low with hackles raised, but I was the only one that saw. "They can never be redeemed, no matter how much you try. If I had my way, they would all be locked in Azkaban, with half of them soon to get the kiss."

The rational part of me was slowly reasserting itself, and I got up off the ground. The fog around my mind was starting to clear, so became aware of what had been said. My eyes narrowed; I suddenly didn't feel quite so charitable toward James Potter. "_Slytherins are scum." _I wondered what must have happened for him to be so completely brainwashed. And he was the _Minister. _

Suddenly it made a lot more sense for there to be crazed groups of Slytherins trying to take over the wizarding world. I honestly wondered what was stopping Snape from joining them.

Something in Lily seemed to break, and then she just looked weary. "One day, James Potter, you will regret your actions. And I pray that by then it won't be too late." She picked up her hand-bag. "Since you refuse to allow me to see my son, I will simply ask you to relate a message to him. Tell Harry that, whatever happens, I'll always love him." She gave him a sorrowful glance. "I wish I could take Ally that message from you, but I don't like to lie."

I was stuck on the sentence before, and didn't take in the last one. _"Tell Harry that, whatever happens, I'll always love him." _My logical mind told me that she was talking about the other Harry, and she couldn't possibly mean me too. I promptly told my logical mind to go fuck itself.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Remus' troubled frown. "Prongs, I want to talk to you later," he said rather sternly. "Some time in the next few days, perhaps. But now, I think we should be getting going."

The rest of the Decagon! I'd completely forgotten about them. I growled at my own idiocy, whilst dragging my brain back into gear. No wonder I kept screwing up, if I continually forgot stuff.

"Good idea, Professor Lupin," I said, swiftly pulling my wand out of the wrist-guard. "Proper evasion will be impossible with you and miss P-Evans around, but we should still be careful. You can bring your wands out, but try as hard as you can not to use them. It'll be like a huge beacon, leading them to us." I looked at James and gave him a stiff nod this time, rather than a bow. "Minister."

He opened his mouth to reply, then paused. "I don't think I've asked what your name is."

I imagined the scene in my head. _"Hey, dad, I'm Harry Potter, your son from an alternate reality. I screwed up the world I used to live in, and now I've come to do the same to this one. And at the moment I would like nothing better than to set Severus on you, since you're being such a stupid bastard. Aren't you proud of me?" _Instead I wiped all expression off my face and said, "Tobias Thatcher, sir."

"Ah. Well then, Auror Thatcher, may I commend you for your help in coming…" He trailed off, then turned to Sirius in confusion. "Why are you here, Padfoot? I specifically asked for you not to be drafted, and anyway, you're a Hogwarts teacher!"

Sirius laughed uneasily. "Oh, you know me, Prongs. Always rushing into battle at the first sound of danger, heh heh…" It sounded completely fake, but Potter seemed to buy it, and grinned back at his friend.

Severus gave a deep growl that would normally have been impossible for a fox. It reverberated around the room, causing everyone to remember what was happening.

"Good point, Rus," I muttered, walking out to the door. Then to James, "Are you coming, Minister?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"But…" I looked at him incredulously. "What if Vipers come up here? I mean, everyone values courage, but not at the expense of your life. Sir."

He gave me a patronising glance. "As the Minister, I have had special protection spells put on me, Thatcher. One of the spells blocks all tracking charms and objects, and another makes the room I am in practically invisible to people wishing me harm, when I'm the only person in the room. Unfortunately, it stops working when there are other people with me."

"Oh." My father was reminding me of the way Percy had seemed when I was still a Hogwarts student, and I honestly wanted to hit him. Instead, I gritted my teeth and continued talking politely. "Then I think we should take our leave, sir." I gestured impatiently at the others. "Let's go, guys. Judging how Moody sounded when he called, I doubt they're in life-threatening danger, but we should help them out anyway."

Even if it hadn't seemed like it, my heart was beating furiously fast and I had to consciously stop my hands from shaking. I'd finally met my mother and father. And James, at least, wasn't the almost god-like being that I'd admittedly imagined him to be. It was sad, really; I'd _known _how arrogant my father had been (who could forget the Pensive incident, and then Remus had told me numerous stories about him), but when I imagined him it had been with almost no failings. I admitted that sometimes I seemed to act more like a child than an adult. But who could blame me? I'd never really had a real childhood, and it seemed like sometimes I spontaneously regressed back to that stage to try and make up for it.

My mother was a bit more of a mystery. I was standing at the door while everyone walked out into the foyer, and we locked gazes. She smiled slightly, and I found it very disconcerting to have my own vivid green eyes looking back at me. "Miss Evans," I said courteously.

"Mr. Thatcher," she replied. Did my eyes really look like that, I wondered. So full of emotion…so telling. Somehow, I didn't think so. Once they may have, but I'd been through too much for them to still hold that beautiful, truthful light inside.

It was probably for the best, actually. All Snape's lessons on masks would have been useless if someone had only to look in my eyes to see what I was thinking.

When we were all out, I gave James one last, piercing look before shutting the door. It was strange that he hadn't offered to help, actually. Even in my current age, it was hard for me to let others take risks while I sat and twiddled my thumbs.

My finger hovered over the golden lion statue, but I didn't touch it. "After this point, no talking," I said sternly. "We're not able to get about completely undetected any more, but that doesn't mean we should stop being careful. Rus can lead, since he can scout ahead without a chance of getting caught. Level seven, remember. Any questions?"

"Yes," Sirius said determinedly. "Why is it that Animagi can get around without being noticed by scanners?"

"This isn't the time, Black. Suffice to say that when you are unregistered, you technically do not exist." I had to clamp down on my mouth to stop from making an unwelcome comment about Sirius' intelligence. Merlin, I was starting to sound like _Snape. _What an utterly undesirable fate to be subjected to. Urgh! Stop it! _I have a little brain. I can't say big words. I don't speak like Snape. Bloody brilliant, mate. _I gave a sigh of relief. _Okay Thatcher, just remember those words and you'll be fine. _

I dimly heard my brother laughing in the background. _Shut it, wolf, _I said, and made a rude mental gesture.

Severus gave an impatient whine, and I touched the back of the lion softly. It swung to the side…

…to reveal a startled Viper who appeared to have been leaning against the lion when it moved.

I didn't have to think, having years of battle engraved on my mind. Quick as lightning, I grabbed a knife out of my other wristguard, flashed toward the man and brought _not _the blade but the _hilt_ of my weapon down hard on his head, all before the unfortunate man had had the time to blink. He was knocked out immediately, and sprawled undignified on the floor.

_Wolf, _I called, and my brother moved his mind closer to mine so they were touching. That was what I always did when I wasn't calm or didn't have enough time to use Legilimency, and it worked almost as well. With both our minds connected, I was able to access a lot more of my brother's senses than I had previously, and it would work for over an hour. It had down sides; a splitting headache and incredible weariness when we were finished, as well as the uncomfortable feeling that I wasn't me anymore. But it was the best thing we'd come up with in circumstances like the one we were in.

Instantly my eyes became sharper, my hearing improved, and scents all over became infinitely clearer; they seemed to _imprint _themselves into my mind so that even if my eyes had been closed and my ears locked, I would still have managed fine. Below me I could sense the man I had knocked out, and behind I could hear the breathing of three humans and one four legged animal, as well as hearing their heart rates (quite a bit quicker than they would normally have been) and smelling astonishment, curiosity and a little fear. Further behind I could hear James, pacing around the room. It seemed that those protections only worked against magical detection. Around the hallway were the slow and steady breathing of the people that had gone unconscious.

I spread my senses further out, and smelt a male and female human lurking around where the staircase was, not seeming to notice that me and the others were near them. I turned back to Remus and the others and held up a hand while mouthing, "Stay." Then I slunk down the hallway, staying in shadows, stepping over bodies and making no noise. My hearing picked up moans and a comment about "wishing there was a bed" and "or at least a whip or two", and I raised an eyebrow incredulously. In my world, if anyone had been found snogging on the job there would have been serious repercussions from Snape. And me, too, I supposed; I wasn't exactly the most forgiving person then. I wondered what their Commander would say (_his name's Jayden, _the dark recesses of my mind informed me. _That's what Kerosene called him. Remember that name; it's important) _and found that I was subconsciously still thinking of myself as Sergent of the Vipers. I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing, but in the circumstances I was in right now, it didn't quite seem the best way to feel.

I slipped up behind the couple trying to tear off each-others' clothes, and mouthed a silent apology while repeating the action I had done with the man before. After they'd become unconscious, I turned out their pockets, and amongst other stuff found a Version 3 Detector, a handful of bugs to stick on walls, a signalling device and, to my slight surprise, a Mage-Gun. All of which I claimed for myself, and put in my inside pockets.

Then I looked back down the corridor, and saw the others quite a bit closer than they had been. I rolled my eyes, and beckoned them over.

Below me I could hear more people walking about. _They must have found what they were looking for, then, _wolf said, and I agreed. I consciously decided not to think about it, though. At the moment, all I had to do was get the Decagon out of the Ministry safely. I wasn't going to get any more involved in the war than I had to.

000

"…Granger, how the hell do you know how to get into Impossible-To-Enter rooms?"

Hermione had been wondering how long it would take for him to ask that question, and was quite impressed that he'd lasted five minutes. "Why do you automatically assume that, if your father didn't discover it, nobody else will?"

"I _don't," _Potter snapped. "But you're a bloody bookworm, Granger. Who would expect _you _to go around maraudering and discovering secret passageways?"

"I don't have to answer to you, Potter," Hermione replied firmly.

The boy glowered. "You should have to," he said.

Here Allison entered the conversation. "Oh, and why is that?" she asked archly. "Do you think you're above everyone else, just because your _father _is the Minister?"

Potter gritted his teeth. "No," he lied. "Of course no—"

"Well listen up, Potter; you're about to get an education. Did you know that, one-hundred years ago, the Minister was technically _below _everyone else? His job was to _serve_ the wizarding community, not lord over it like Minister Potter is doing."

"You're such a bloody know-it-all, Evans. Why do you like History so much, anyway? Got a crush on Binns? I suppose it's not surprising — he's the only person that would even consider going out with a fat, ugly bitch like you."

Before the two siblings could start a full-out screaming match, Hermione turned and glared at them. "If you haven't noticed, it's after curfew," she whispered angrily. "With these new stricter rules, if we're caught, we could get suspended. Do you really want that on your record?" She turned and strode away, not looking back to see if she was being followed.

Really, when would those two learn that sometimes it was best to set aside differences and call a truce? Hermione had done it; normally she wouldn't be seen dead talking to Harry James Potter, and now she was showing him the way to her only secret place.

Taking a quick glance and seeing them about ten metres behind, Hermione quickly touched the big, lifesize paining of a handsome dark-haired man glaring out at the world, and whispered, "Books and knowledge equal life." The man flashed a shy smile and gave a half wave, then slowly faded away until the painting had morphed into a doorway.

Allison and Potter eventually caught up, and the latter's brow creased. "I don't remember this secret passage," he said.

Hermione turned to him in exasperation. "Honestly, Potter, did you think that it was possible for the Marauders to discover _every _secret room in a castle the size of Hogwarts?" She rolled her eyes — he obviously had — and walked through the archway. "Come on," she said impatiently. "Do you want to help your friends or not?"

There were no lights in the hallway, so three _lumos' _was all the illumination in the place. Hermione didn't mind, but she could tell that the other two did; they were jumpy and paranoid, and when the still painting of the Dementor came into view, Potter had to visibly stop himself from squeaking in terror.

"We're almost there," Hermione muttered, and nonchalantly ran a hand along the wall. "_Merlin, _it's a wonder that you two haven't passed out in fear." As she had hoped, the comment about not having courage was enough for them not to notice her heavy emphasis on the word "Merlin". She might have to show them her secret room, but she'd be damned if she'd freely give out the password to it.

Although, it seemed like the two Weasleys had known what it was without any help from Hermione. Now, that was _very _strange, as the girl had never seen anyone else in that room. And if Ginny or Ronald _had _discovered it, surely they would have told their friends? It…wasn't logical. And when things weren't logical, Miss Granger got angry.

Allison reached the red-wood door first, and put her ear against it. "…I can't hear anything," she said eventually. "What if…they're…"

"Move," Potter said brusquely, and lightly pushed his sister to the side while copying her gesture. "How does this door lead to the room when it's floating in the air?"

"Magic, wanker," Allison snarled. Her brother didn't rise to the bait, and just nodded. Then, before Hermione could stop him, he pulled out his wand, opened the door and ran inside.

"_Potter, _you _idiot!" _Allison screeched, and ran in after him. An utterly exasperated expression crossed Hermione's face — well, it was obvious that _those _two were related — and she followed much more carefully.

She poked her head in the door, and raised the wand above her head. And blinked.

Ginny and Ron were lying unconscious on the ground, arranged next to each other. There was no one else in the room, and no sign that anyone else had ever been there. Allison and Potter were kneeling behind their respective friends, and trying to wake them up.

Hermione cautiously walked closer, and saw wands clenched tightly in Ginny and Ron's hands. The former had a split lip and the latter a gash on his cheek, but other than that they seemed wound-free.

"Ginny," Allison murmured. "C'mon Ginny, wake up. If you don't you'll miss the end of Summer ball, and you won't get to ask Theodore Nott to dance with you. And if you don't do that, me and Luna all be deprived of our laughter." She lightly shook her. "Wake _up."_

"Ron," Potter said in anxiety, "we need you to explain what happened. Come on, mate, don't leave us hanging." He slapped him none too lightly on the face. "Stop fucking around, Ron. Wake _up." _

Hermione leaned further, in time to see Ronald's face shifting minutely in pain. His mouth opened slightly, and he seemed to murmur the word, "Sky." Then he blinked and looked up at Potter. "Hey, Harry," he said. "Er, why am I on the ground?" Slowly his eyes went past his friend and latched on Hermione. "And why is Granger here?"

"You should be thankful that I am," Hermione replied frostily. "If it weren't for me, who knows how long you would have stayed in this room."

"Um, yeah," Potter said, sounding embarrassed. "About that…" he averted his eyes. "Thanks, Granger. You were pretty helpful." Then almost defensively, "Not that I couldn't have figured it out on my own, though."

Harry didn't see Hermione's reaction, because he turned back to Ronald and started talking animatedly about how good it was to see him. Hermione was glad, really; it wasn't such a good look to have your jaw drop and your eyes pop out of your head. Potter had been _civil. Thankful, _even! It was unprecedented! Astonishing!

But she supposed the only redeeming quality about the boy was his loyalty to his only true friend, Ron Weasley. Oh, Potter had a league of lackeys, but none were his equal the way Ronald was. And to make sure his friend was okay, he would go to huge lengths — even thanking his so-called-inferiors.

"Ally?" came a soft voice. Hermione turned, and saw Ginny pushing herself up on her elbows.

"Ginny!" Allison cried, and hugged the girl. "You're alright! I thought maybe…but you're okay!"

Ginny laughed. "I'm fine, Ally. Why wouldn't I be?" Then she looked around, and frowned. "Where are we?

"I don't know exactly, but it's some sort of secret room that only Gra, er, Hermione knows about. Hey, wait a second…why don't you know where you are? You and Ronald are the ones that went here in the first place."

"Ron?" Ginny looked around and spotted her brother. "Oh. Hey, Ron." She didn't sound thrilled.

"Ginny," he acknowledged. "I don't bloody remember coming here either. Last thing I remember was me and you arguing about the ball…" he trailed off, then, "_Nott? _You're going to ask _Theodore Nott _to the ball?_" _

"Calm down, Ron!" Ginny said hurriedly, getting up quickly with one hand held out in defence. "It's a _joke. _I just want to see what his reaction will be. I don't know where you heard it from, but I _don't _have a crush on Nott." She glared. "Even if I did, it wouldn't be any of your business.

Slowly, Ron's hackles lowered. "…Okay," he said eventually. "But I'm only allowing it so that Nott looks stupid."

Allison rolled her eyes, and looked back at Ginny. Then she gave her another big hug. "I'm so glad you're not hurt," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione turned away, unable to bear any more. She felt like she was being eaten alive by envy. Ginny should have been _her _friend. Allison wasn't even in her house, and she had Luna to keep her company. Surely having two friends was greedy, especially since someone else had none.

She knew she shouldn't dislike Evans as much as she did, but it was impossible. The girl wasn't anywhere near as smart as Hermione, but she still managed to be in Ravenclaw, the house Hermione would have killed to be in. Allison had two best friends, and about thirty other people that she would happily converse with if said best friends weren't around. She was a bit chubby to be pretty, but at least she didn't have huge buck-teeth and horrible frizzy hair. And she didn't even realise how damn lucky she was.

Hermione's eyes ran along the floor, and she caught sight of a dusty, faded book, a broken button, and a red ribbon. Feeling the need to just _do _something, she strode forward and picked up the ribbon, feeling its soft, velvet-like texture. She put it in her pocket, then turned to the others.

"We should go," she said decisively. "Every minute we stay increases our chances of getting caught. It says so in _A Tactician's Guide to Success." _

Potter looked at her condescendingly. "Not everything you read in books is true, Granger."

Hermone glared. "I realise that. But the information you get from books is a whole lot more reliable than what you might find from, say, a bully with glasses and messy hair."

"Well, duh, but what's that got to do with — hey, you're talking about _me!"_

"Let's just go," Ginny said wearily. "We can fight and talk about why me and Ron mysteriously appeared in a place we've never heard of later. Right now, I just want to go to sleep."

Allison and Potter argued a bit, then the group headed back down the hall. While they walked, Ginny came up to Hermione, and smiled hesitantly. "Um, thanks, Hermione. It was really nice of you to help us."

"Anyone would have done the same," she replied truthfully, running her hand along the wall to lock the door. "I just had the means to do so."

"Yeah, well, thanks anyway."

"You're welcome."

They reached the end of the corridor, and Hermione pressed the red circle in the middle of the back of the painting, causing it to slowly vanish. Stepping out into the corridor, Hermione turned and gestured impatiently at the other teenagers. They followed.

By now Hermione was starting to get tired. It had to be about ten-thirty, and though she had gone whole nights without sleep before, she hadn't been creeping around the school after curfew. Her brain was hollering for rest and that was why, when she first saw the figure silhouetted against the darkness, she thought it was just her imagination. That was, until Ronald pointed him out.

"Hey, who's that?"

"The figure looked sharply upward, then, "Thank _Merlin!" _he cried in relief, and hurried toward them. As he came closer his features became clearer, and Hermione's expression instantly changed from slight fear to horrified incredulation. Was it even _possible _to be that garish?

The man had on a long purple and green robe which dragged past his feet, and pointy red shoes reminiscent of those worn by Dorothy in that movie Hermione's parents had made her watch countless times. "The Oz of Wizard", or something similar to. But his crowning ensemble was the rather wonky pointed hat on his head, with sparkles and and what looked like paper cut-out stars. Also on the hat there was a word, for which Hermione had to squint before she could make out. "Magicshin", it said. Not "magician", but "magicshin".

She turned to the students beside her, to see them wearing equally horrified expressions. "Bloody hell," Ronald said. "What's _he _doing here?"

"You know him?" Hermione whispered.

"Oh yeah," Potter said in dread. "Granger, meet Matthew Zabini, Potions Master and professional fool."

"Matthew Zabini? So is he a relative of Blaise Zabi—"

"_Darlings," _Zabini gushed, striding forward. "It's simply spiffing that I found you, as I'm most frightfully los…" he trailed off as got a clearer view of just _who _he was talking to. Then, "_Merlin! _It's _Harry! _And little Ronnie! Baby Ginny! Cuddly Ally! I haven't seen you in _forever!"_

"Must have been almost five weeks," Allison muttered darkly.

The man either didn't hear her, or ignored the comment. He turned to Hermione. "And who might you be?"

"Hermione Granger," the girl replied, putting her hand out for him to shake. He kissed it instead, and gave a smile that, while not of Lockheart's standard, was still pretty effective. "I should have known that such a beautiful woman would have an equally pretty name," he said. Hermione felt her face go red.

Behind her, Potter snorted. "Pretty? If Granger's pretty, I'm Malfoy's bankrupt sister."

Zabini looked at the pig disapprovingly. "Now, now, Harry. It is _appallingly _bad taste to be rude to ladies. Someone of your status should already know that."

Potter scowled and muttered something indistinguishable. Zabini ignored him.

"…Er, excuse me, Mr. Zabini, but what are you doing here?" That was Ginny, looking like it was only force of habit that kept her polite.

"Ah!" The man beamed back at Ginny. "Well, that's the thing! I was going to have a little chat with Albus, but when I got there, he said that I'd got the date wrong! So I came down here, but I'd forgotten how _complicated _this castle is, and—"

"You got lost," Allison said, not sounding surprised.

"Why, yes! So if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind showing me which direction I need to go to to get to the exit…"

Hermione spoke up. "There's a staircase about fifty metres to the left. Go down that until you reach the portrait of the snobbish lady in the red dress, then go straight forward. Eventually you'll reach a plain brown door. Open that, and you'll be in the Great Hall."

Matthew gave an extravagant bow, his hat defying gravity by staying firmly stuck on his head. "I am eternally grateful, fair lady," he said.

"Er, um, you're welcome, Mr. Zabini."

The man tossed his head back. "Oh, there's no need to be so _formal_, Miss Hermione. Even if I'm going to be your assistant Potions Professor, out of class I'd prefer just to be known as 'Matthew'." He gave a jaunty wave, and headed off to the left.

The teenagers watched him with the same slightly stunned, bug-eyed expressions. Ronald was the first to come out of the stupor, shaking his head as though to clear it. "…Did he just say he was going to be the assistant Potions Professor?"

A slow grin grew on Potter's face. "Yeah, he did. Snape won't know what hit him."

000

We managed to get to level six before our cover was blown.

I'd been listening furiously to the battle happening on the floor below with the rest of the Decagon (there seemed to be about ten people against four, with more Vipers going over there. I was starting to get a bit worried) and so I was distracted. That was why, when the group of five Vipers came around the corner and almost ran into us, I didn't react as fast as I should have.

After the initial moment of astonishment, I managed to down two of them by using a sweeping low kick and a couple of bonks on the head. Lily kneed another in the groin then punched him sharply in the face, while, after making a quick apology, Remus got the only woman into a headlock and smashed his skull into hers. Sirius and Severus had taken off after the last man, who had fled as soon as he saw us. But it turned out to be too late; I saw the bright green flashing light and heard the slow, sharp siren, along with the man shouting, "More intruders! More intruders!" The signalling device had been triggered.

I acted immediately, slipping from stealth mode to Sergeant mode. "Okay, Aurors, _we've been found out!_" I roared. "Sneaking around will not work anymore, so pull out your wands and stay alert! I can tell you without a doubt that the other group is right now in deep shit, so let's _hurry the fuck up, _shall we?"I could smell the fear and astonishment coming from the people in front of me, and didn't know whether it was at the thought of the Vipers, or me. I didn't let it bother me; striding past them, I pulled my wand out, keeping a knife in my other hand. I didn't look back, but I heard them following me.

We were almost at the staircase when the next group of Vipers showed themselves. However, this time I had heard them a long time before they came, so I was ready. I pushed myself against the wall, my clothes helping me to fade into the background. When the Vipers came into view, they immediately saw the Decagon and pulled their wands out. The two groups started sending curses at each other, and I quickly slipped behind the battle, Severus the fox at my feet (he seemed to have had the same idea as me. Well, I suppose he _was _a Slytherin). Then, slinking forward until I was directly behind the Vipers, I proceeded to knock them all out with _Stupefies, _the hilt of my knife, and my fists.

I wasn't going to kill them as I had with Death Eaters, for a couple of reasons. The primary one was that I didn't really know what they'd done wrong, and wasn't blind enough to think that, just because I was drafted on one side, I was automatically right. The more subtle reason was that, back in my world, the Vipers had been like family to me. They had been the only people I had, once all the others were dead. Even if I didn't know these people, my mind rebelled at the idea of killing them.

Soon enough the eight Vipers were strewn across the ground, and the Decagon were looking at me incredulously. I raised an eyebrow, and turned to the stairs where I saw another Viper climbing them, wand in hand. "_Expelliarmus," _I muttered, and her wand flew away from her and skidded across the ground. Then she looked up, and my eyes widened slightly. I knew that girl. She was a fairly young combat witch who had often been paired with me when the mission called for stealth, and her name was Hazel.

Immediately I was on my guard. Hazel wouldn't carelessly walk into possible enemy territory unless she was a diversion, or had a damn good backup plan. I strained my senses, and sure enough picked up the noise of some people shuffling up the stairs below, and others coming down the hallway on the other side. Inwardly I growled. _Bloody hell._

If it had just been me, I could have got out relatively easily by doing what I did best: running away. But with three people and one animal with me, it would be a lot harder. I'd never been the most powerful guy around, and if it came to a test of duelling against over twenty people I would fail, no questions asked. So, I needed to think of a different way to go about things…

I felt around in my pocket, and touched the things I had taken from the people making out on the stairs. The Detector wouldn't help, and neither would the bugs. The mage gun should only be used in emergencies, as it was slightly unstable and made a lot of noise. But the signalling device…I could think of a use for that, one that would at least give us a bit more space.

I flashed a quick grin at Hazel, then faded into the background until Sirius, Remus and Lily were in front of me. "Watch out," I whispered to them. "About twenty Vipers are closing in on us fast." Then I turned to Severus, who was looking hyper-alert and anxious. "Hey Rus," I murmured, and he padded a few steps forward. I pulled the signalling device out of my pocket, and turned the dial so that it was at its maximum. Then I showed it to the fox.

He glared suspiciously at it, as I had known he would. I kneeled next to him. "Severus, take this to the floor above, over on the opposite side to us. Then press the red button on it." He made no move toward it, so I expanded. "Pressing it will set off the intruder alarm, and hopefully make the Vipers think that there are a lot more of us then there actually are."

Understanding entered his eyes, and I put the device in his mouth, careful that his teeth didn't accidentally press the button. "Come back as quickly as you can, because we're leaving at the exact moment when I catch up with the rest of the Decagon. Oh, and try and run so fast that no Vipers will be able to see you, let alone catch you."

Severus nodded, then loped away. I turned back, and saw Hazel spread out unconscious on the ground, Sirius whistling innocently. When I looked at him, he shrugged. "I _stupefied _her, seeing as you didn't seem to be going to."

_You're thinking with your fists again, human, _my brother commented, amused. _One would wonder if you were even a Wizard, the way you easily forget about magic._

_Shut it, wolf._

"Good," I stated. "But — _stupefy! Expelliarmus! Fiero! Elosahora!" _

_Oh, that's just great, _I thought as I dodged spells and a few weapons. _Temporarily forget about the group of Vipers coming to extract your entrails. Smart move, Thatcher. _There seemed to be just over ten of them, and they all seemed to be smarter than the ones I'd gone against before. And stronger. Well, if I could just keep us all alive for the next minute or so, we'd have a distraction handy.

My heightened senses heard the curse being shouted and saw that it was coming my way, and I instinctively ducked and rolled. Coming up crouching, I shouted, "_Floriam Micorial!" _back at the Viper, who froze in the air.

I turned around and saw my mother duelling someone a whole lot fitter than she was, and winning. Near her was Sirius, battling two Vipers with a fierce concentration on his face. To the left was Remus, who was being backed into a corner and trying vainly to duel against five people. "_Stupefy!" _I shouted, and one fell. "_Stupefy stupefy stupefy!" _I was panting by now with the effort of using all those spells, so I decided to stop the last one with non-magical means. I shoved my wand back in my wristguard and pulled out my knives. But that last Viper seemed to have a sadistic streak, because he cast aside his wand and brought out another weapon. His mage-gun.

He pulled it up so that it was inches from Remus' face, and I felt horror send ice through my veins.

_Not again. No, please._

_Never again. Don't do this to me…_

A hot fury engulfed me. Someone was trying to take my father away from me. Again. "_Get the hell away from him!" _I hissed, and leapt forward, throwing both knives with precision. Deadly precision, as it turned out. One stuck deep in his throat, and the other went straight into his heart.

The gun dropping out of the Viper's hand and made a clatter as it hit the floor. The man half turned, and I saw a dark patch slowly growing around the knife embedded in his heart. He seemed to _gurgle, _and some more of the darkness dribbled out his mouth. His right hand moved up, and clumsily tried to pull the weapon out of his neck. Then, ever so slowly, he fell.

His last expression was of fear.

I suddenly felt sick. I'd…killed someone. Not that I hadn't before, but this was different. It heralded the return of the part of myself I most despised.

I thought I might be able to stop it all now that I was in another world, but it seemed some things were the same whatever reality you were in.

Wolf seemed to feel just as sickened. _It's starting again, _he said, _This meaningless death. You don't need them for food, and yet you still kill. It's disgusting. It's starting again. _Hehowled inside my mind.

The battle was still going on around me, but I didn't notice. I slid to the ground, a lost expression on my face. Then I saw the man I killed, and whimpered.

My view was obscured by grey robes crouching down in front of me. "Mr. Thatcher," came Remus' voice, and through the calm I noticed a hint of hysteria. I looked up, and saw on his clothes a few spots of blood, not his.

"Yes?" I asked dully.

"You have to get up. We've got to get down to the other Dec — Aurors, so we can get back home."

I inhaled, and my eyes widened. "You're scared. Of me." I felt intensely ashamed all of a sudden. Was I truly that pathetic that I made people I liked and respected fear me?

"How did you — oh." Remus looked uncomfortable. "Well yes, I am. You did just kill that man…" he trailed off, as I locked eyes with him. I don't know what he saw there, but whatever it was, the fear I could smell slowly started to dissipate.

When he spoke next it was in a much gentler tone. "Just one more floor and we'll be back at Hogwarts, Tobias. And I know you might not feel like going on much, but the rest of us would rather that our bodies stay in one piece."

Oh yes. In my depression, I'd almost forgotten where I was and what was happening; a mistake that might have proved fatal. I looked past Remus and saw that both Sirius and Lily were holding up reasonably well, but would do better if I were involved in the fight. I felt almost childishly relieved that they hadn't seen me killing the man.

"We could use your help," Remus continued. "You may not think of yourself as much of a savior, but you can't deny that you have a lot of battle experience."

"Yeah, I can't deny that," I said darkly. Remus was looking at me, concerned, and I gave a weak smile. "Don't worry about me," I said, getting up off the ground and pulling out my wand. "I've never really liked killing people much, though, and I'm out of practice."

Suddenly there was a loud, shrill siren, beeping at an incredibly fast rate. All the Vipers stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction of the sound, all with horrified expressions on their face.

"…Fucking hell," one of them said. "That's over five-hundred! How the bloody hell did that many get past the wards?"

"I'm not staying here," another one said firmly.

"Yeah. _I'm _not going to stay and get the kiss."

"Answering to Jayden is better than answering to five-hundred soldiers."

"Let's go."

It was better than I'd expected. As one collective group, the Vipers turned and ran back the way they came, not seeming to care that we were still here, and perfectly healthy.

Sirius whooped. "Yeah! Go back to your nests, Vipers! No one tangles with the world-  
famous Sirius Black!" Then his expression turned confused. "Hey, wait a second. There are five-hundred soldiers coming?"

"No, there's not," I replied. "I gave a signalling device to Rus, and he went and set it off. It's a distraction, so that we can get out easier." I consciously shoved my horror at killing the man into the back of my mind, so right at that moment I was feeling strangely personality-less. I knew it was bad for me, that it wasn't good to lock your feelings away, but I promised myself that tomorrow I would have a nice little screaming and breaking things session up in my room. Right now I needed my brain to stay sharp.

"Good thinking," Lily said with a smile.

"Thanks," I replied. "Now, I think we should really be getting going. Rus will catch up."

"Awww." Sirius looked disappointed. "We have to go already? I wanted to kick Viper arse."

I rolled my eyes. "They've all run off anyway. Unless you want to be dishonourable and kick the unconscious ones, there are no Vipers left."

Sirius pouted, but didn't argue. After a little more discussion we headed off, Lily in the front and me in the back. I hadn't gone far, however, when I heard someone's soft but fast breathing to the right of me. Immediately I turned my head, and saw in the shadows one Viper who was not yet unconscious.

I thought I didn't recognise her at first, but that was before I saw the little yin and yang necklace dangling from her neck, and the tattoo of a star on her cheek. Then it was all I could do to stop my jaw dropping. It was Nymphandora Tonks, better known as "Nymph" to the Vipers. She was one of the few people who I was sure wouldn't still be a Viper in this world.

I wondered what she was doing staying behind when there were supposedly five-hundred soldiers coming, but then I remembered Hazel lying unconscious on the stairs. Those two had been best friends in my world, so I supposed it was logical to assume they were the same here. So, Nymph was staying so that she could wake her friend up, and keep her from getting caught by the "soldiers".

Well, far be it for me to stop her. Even if there weren't any soldiers coming, when the Ministry people woke up the Vipers would be off to Azkaban faster than they could blink. Actually, I had been planning to casually take off the curses put on the people as I walked past them, but this was a better idea.

I caught her gaze, and I heard her breath catch and smelt her fear. If I killed, or even _Stupefied _her, all hope for the little group would be lost.

Well, I could never resist the chance to shock someone. I nodded to Nymph, and gave the four-fingered Viper sign for "friend". Then, not waiting to see the change of expression on her face, I continued along my way.

We walked down the stairs without any incidents, except for Sirius tripping over one of those unconscious Ministry workers. I was very thankful to Wolf for lending me his senses, because through my hearing I was able to discover that there were no Vipers on the level below, but the rest of the Decagon were still there. They were arguing again, this time about whether we were even going to come.

Then from behind me I heard the padding of paws, and turned around. As I'd expected, it was Severus, trotting down to the group.

"Hey, Rus," I said. He glared at me, then meaningfully lay down and put his head between his paws.

I winced. "Oh yeah. I forgot how loud the noise would seem when you were that close to it. Sorry."

He glared at me a bit more, then got up and went to stand next to Lily. I raised an eyebrow, and in a monotone replied, "Oh. You have chosen her over me. My heart bleeds."

"It should," Lily replied mischievously. "Who _wouldn't _want Rus' affections?"

Sirius choked. "Can we stop talking about this, please? Let's just go. I don't want to have to vomit up my dinner."

"You didn't have any," Remus observed. "Too nervous."

"That is not the point."

We finished going down the stairs, and then went down the corridor. I sighed minutely; this floor was for Wizarding sports, and I was seeing Quidditch memorabilia wherever I looked. I hadn't ridden a broom in over three years — they were so easy to track with all that magic in them, and we couldn't afford the luxury.

We turned a corner and came face to face with a very tense Decagon, wands pointing right at us. There was a moment of silence, then Moody said, "Well, it's about time."

"What took you so long?" Minerva asked archly.

"Had a bit of a run in with some Vipers," Sirius said nonchalantly. "But look; we got what we came for, and no one's hurt. That's pretty good."

"Let's just go," Sprout said, annoyed. "There are some thumbullweed flowers that need to be plucked at midnight tonight, and I don't want to have to wait another month for them to bloom."

"Good idea," I said, pulling out the pendant. "Rus, change but don't make any noise, if you will. It will be hard to Portkey the way you are now." I was being deliberately vague and not calling Severus by his name for a reason. The ministry might have sound detectors still working.

Snape transformed back into a human, and I held out the pendant. "Everyone grab hold." I waited about thirty seconds for everyone to get into position, then muttered, "Portus."

There was the familiar sharp pull on my navel, and then we were all back in the secret room up in Dumbledore's office, where I staggered and wrenched the portkey from the people holding on to it. The Headmaster was sitting on one of the chairs, but quickly rose from that and came to us.

I said to Wolf, _You can go back now, brother. I don't need your senses anymore._

His weary voice replied, _Thank Merlin. You have absolutely no idea how hard that was. _Almost immediately he let go of my mind, and I was flung back to my normal place.

I suddenly felt incredibly tired. This was just the start of my body paying my mind back; it would get a lot worse when my brain had time to process all the information.

"You got them back, then?" Albus asked. I just looked at him, blinking my eyes repeatedly and not quite awake enough to talk coherently. Was that supposed to be a rhetorical question? He had eyes, with which he presumably saw things.

I decided that I should talk, if only to give amusement to the others. "Needed more…portkeys. Hard to get…back together…properly."

"Yes, but it is impossible to tie more than one portkey to this room without destabilising its magical core."

With my head tilted to the side and feeling like I'd spent more than a week with no sleep, the only words I heard were "impossible", and "magical core". "Oh," I said. "That's…nice."

My mind rebelled at the idea of going all the way back up to my tower, and I had to stifle a groan when I thought of all those stairs I needed to climb. I steeled my mind to the task, but before I left I remembered something that had been niggling at the back of my mind for all the time since the start of the Decagon meeting.

"Last…of Decagon. Who is…it? Why wasn'e…here?"

"It's Matthew Zabini," Snape replied wearily. "You remember I told you about him? Well, we thought it was best that he stayed away from the action, lest he cut a nail and scream loud enough to bring all the Vipers down on us."

"Oh," I said vaguely, swaying from side to side. "I suppose that would explain it."I perhaps would have said a bit more, but everything that had happened caught up with me. In a giant wave of weariness, I fainted.

000

Finally. Writing the chapter was fun, but I'm glad it's over. And I hope all of you remember what I told you last chapter, that I've created an LJ to answer your reviews. Feel free to say hi to me there, or tell me if you don't understand my answers.

And if you've read Terry Pratchett's "Discworld" series, I'm sure you picked up the salute to Rincewind. It was in the pointy hat that Matthew wears.


	13. Chapter 10

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I could give you a thousand reasons why I'm so late to update, but I sound whiny enough as it is. So, without further ado, here is the next chapter. At least it's not too short.

**Chapter 10: August 31 **

**12.50pm **

"So Blaise, do you want some steak?"

The girl glared at Theodore. "What have I told you a thousand times?"

Draco snorted. "Oh yes, your new 'vegetarian diet' that will result in the loss of ten kilos. Never mind that you heard of the thing from a muggle magazine that even the muggles themselves don't trust. Oh, I'm sure that in a week's time, you'll come down from the girls' dormitory looking like Morgana hersel—"

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

It was the annual start of school feast, although this time a little different than normal; because the End of Summer Ball was going to be on at night, it was taking place in midday. Almost all the other students fourth year and over were talking about the ball, and the Slytherin trio would have been too…had Blaise and Theodore not bet Draco five galleons that he wouldn't mention anything about it until an hour before. Theo thought it was his best idea yet.

He speared a potato. "When do you think the first years will come?"

"I dunno," Blaise answered moodily, still obviously cross at him. "Soon, anyways, since they're not going on the Hogwarts Express any more."

"So how _are _they getting here?" Draco questioned. The girl shrugged. "Matthew said something about Portkeys, but I don't think he knows much more than I do. Maybe Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall are apparating the kids here. It'd be a reason why they're not around."

"It is impossible to apparate inside Hogwarts grounds," Nott said immediately. "I've told you endless times, and you contine to forget it. Don't you learn _anything?" _

"Don't you ever _shut up?_"

Theodore blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "You're just looking for a fight, aren't you?"

"I could out-curse you any day, Nott. In fact, why don't we take this outside? We'll give the first years a show that they'll tell their grandchildren." Her voice turned dreamy. "August 31, the day that Blaise Zabini ruined Theodore Nott's life. There will be posters of me strung up on walls, and all shall bow down to me as their queen."

"Or they'll lock you up in Azkaban like the crazy murderer that you'll turn into," Draco said off-handedly.

Blaise huffed. "I resent that remark," she said snootily, crossing her arms. "You're both just ganging up on me because I'm showing an interest in animal rights. Evil bastards, the both of you."

"Did we ever say we weren't…" Draco trailed off, and his expression grew ugly. "Ah. Look who has deigned to grace us with his presence."

Theodore didn't bother looking, just leaned on the table with an elbow and picked at some beans. "Charming. Come, Blaise, let us watch Draco stare avidly at Harry Potter."

The boy didn't notice. "I'm sure he thinks he's so much better than the rest, with his Minister father and high-and-mighty attitude. What I wouldn't give to make him know how worthless he really is."

Blaise nodded at Theo, grinning. "He does seem to stare a bit too much, doesn't he? I suppose Potter and Weasley are bloody annoying, but now I'm starting to wonder if Draco might have more than just revenge on his mind…"

"Just wait, Potter. I'll get you someday." If looks could kill, Harry would instantly be burning in an underground torture chamber.

"Aww," Blaise said sweetly. "Wittle Dwaco's got a cwush on Hawwy, doesn't he?"

"Huh?" Draco seemed to come back to reality, and his lips moved slightly as he replayed the conversation in his head. A disgusted expression crossed his face. "Blaise, that's just wrong," he said, starting to look nauseated. "Me, and Potter…_ergh_." He made a retching movement.

"Now Blaise, that's just too far," Theo said reprovingly. "Just because you don't wish to eat anything, it doesn't mean that others should be denied. I doubt Draco will be able to stomach anything else for the whole feast."

"Hey, _you _were the one instinauating that he had a thing for Potter in the first place!"

"Insinuating," Theo corrected.

"Huh?"

"Insinuating, not instinauating. If you're going to use big words, at least get them right."

"Grrr!" Blaise tugged at her hair. "Stop it! You're so annoying when you're, you're, starts with a 'P'—"

"Patronizing?"

He was fiercely glared at. "Yes," the girl ground out. "That."

Not far away, Harry and Ron were digging into their dinner with fervor, not spending much time for chatter. Two hours of full-on Quidditch training could do that to you, even if the field was just a magically enlarged room and the snitch was malfunctioning.

"It was a bloody good idea to let us eat before the first years came," Ron said eventually, leaning back on the bench and patting his stomach in satisfaction. "I don't think I could have lasted much longer."

Harry nodded, still eating but now at a much slower rate. "Hey Marie, pass the salt, will you?" he asked a third year on the opposite side to him. The girl stared at him with bug-eyes for a moment, then, blushing, shakily gave him the utensil. Harry watched the girl out of the corner of his eye as she immediately turned and whispered giddily to her friends. He grinned.

Ron seemed to be gradually coming aware of his surroundings. He looked around, and a slight frown crossed his face. "What's the time?" he said generally to the Gryffindors.

A fourth year piped up. "Nearly one pm, Ron."

"Thank's, mate." He leaned marginally closer to Harry. "Don't you think it's a bit strange that Evans, Lovegood and Ginny aren't here yet?"

"Huh? Aren't they?" Harry glanced along the Ravenclaw table. His brow furrowed. "Now why is that?"

Ron grimaced. "Well, I'm probably completely wrong, but just maybe a repeat of last week is happening."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "I sure as Salazar hope not. There was something very dodgy about that all that, especially 'cause you couldn't even remember going there." The day after finding Ron and his sister, Harry had swallowed his pride and pulled Allison and her group of friends over to discuss things. He had found out that neither Ginerva of Ron remembered _anything_ after they'd had their argument in the corridor. Even thinking about it was making Harry edgy. The whole incident had a bad taste to it, accompanied by the feeling that if he digged any further he'd discover some huge secret.

At the same time, though, Harry's insanely curious streak had surfaced, as well as his need to find out what was going on. He _wanted _to discover the secret, and he wanted to save the day. Surprisingly, his reasons for desiring this weren't just because of the adoration he would get, though that was definitely a perk. Rather, he wanted to prove to everyone — and himself — that he was worthy of being the Minister's son. That he wasn't just an average wizard with a rich dad. That he was a Gryffindor. That he could make a difference.

Harry stood up, coming to a decision. "C'mon Ron," he murmured. "Let's go and find them."

"Huh? Er, okay." He got up, and they walked past the Gryffindor table to the side door, Harry catching Granger's eyes as they walked. She raised her eyebrows, and he gave a nonchalant shrug. She glared, and went back to her book.

"Hey Harry," Ron said, a bit confused. "Not that I'm complaining — I sort of want to find Ginny — but why are _you _doing this? You hate Evans."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I do. But this isn't about her." He didn't expand. He didn't think Ron would understand his reasoning.

Ron looked hard at him for a moment. "Who is it about? Ginny? Because if you're even thinking of—"

Harry choked. "Merlin, no! Ron, your sister is entirely safe from me. I'm not interested in her in the least." That was the truth, at least.

Ron relaxed, and opened the side door. "Good. If you were even starting to fancy her, I…" he trailed off, and looked in front of him in horror. A flash of fear went through Harry, and immediately he turned his gaze from Ron to where the boy was looking.

A rush of blood went through his head, and he felt his jaw drop. _Oh yeah, _Harry thought distantly. _I'd forgotten about him. _Standing in front of Harry was Allison, Ginny and Luna. And next to them, looking at Harry with a brow raised, was that mysterious patient that he'd met in the secret part of the hospital wing.

The man gave a nod. "Good afternoon Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. May I ask what you're doing, leaving the Great Hall before the feast has finished?"

000

**Thirty Minutes Earlier**

"So Tobias, are you ready to face the sea of incompetent dunderheads that are the students of Hogwarts?"

Six days had passed since that night in the Ministry of Magic, and in that time I'd done a lot of tying up loose ends. I rested for two days, then got Albus' permission to turn wolf and go around the Hogwarts grounds with a dissolution charm on me (not the forest, unfortunately. It seemed to have become more dangerous in my world). I'd finished my — admittedly vague — lesson plans, and done a bit of thinking about the way I would present myself to the students.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," I replied to Severus.

I hadn't had time to speak to Remus yet, which was definitely something I wanted to do. I wasn't quite sure what would happen when I did, though; he was the only one in this world who had seen me kill someone, and I had to be extra careful what I said and did around him. He noticed more than the average person…

_Actually, he wasn't the only person that saw you kill someone, _wolf commented. _The Shapeshifter did too._

_Tonks? Oh yeah… _I wondered again why she had become a Viper in this world. She wasn't a Slytherin at school (I was pretty sure she was Hufflepuff, actually) so it wouldn't have been house loyalty. Also, it had been my assumption that there were _only _Slytherin Vipers here. The Decagon had been implying that, anyway. So there were two options: one, people were keeping things from me to make me more likely to stay on their side; and two, the Dacagon themselves didn't _know _any other Houses were part of the resistance. If I were betting, I think I would choose the latter, for the reason that they didn't expect me to know anything about the world. Why would they care about me knowing things when I supposedly didn't understand properly what was happening around me?

But seeing the girl had reminded me again that my memories wouldn't always help me. So much had changed, and I had the feeling it was only the tip of the iceberg. So, I had to be very careful. I couldn't assume that the people were the same here as in my world. After all, when had Snape called people he had only known for a few weeks by their first name?

Speaking of Snape, he was presently glaring at me impatiently. I looked sheepish. "Sorry. Got a bit side-tracked. Let's go down and see the people I will soon be teaching." I was actually quite nervous about the sorting, which was the reason I…

…Was being bloody forgetful. "Oh, I almost forgot!" I exclaimed, and hurried back to my desk, pushing the papers from it. "Now where is is — oh, come on, I had it before — here!" I turned around triumphantly and held out the book to Severus. "'_One Hundrede Praktical Potions by, Amadeus Lucifer Slytherin'_. I found it this morning while looking through the old Divination teacher's things, and thought you might want a look at it." That was true, actually. I wondered who this Partridge guy was; from what Snape told me, he seemed to be a teacher of Trelawney's ability, but he also kept priceless potion books locked in an old trunk riddled with protection spells against any magic. Lucky for me, there was nothing to stop lock-pickers.

Snape looked at the book in shock. "Amadeus Slytherin," he whispered. "That's Salazar's great-grandson!"

"Who?" I asked, acting confused.

"The founder of Slytherin House was Salazar Slytherin," Snape said distractedly, still staring reverentially at the book.

Severus had explained the Houses and Sorting to me, so I didn't have to play dumb about that as well. "Oh. So this guy's name is pretty famous, then? I thought it was just a fluke that they had the same name. Anyway, judging by the shape the book's in, I'd say it's at least five-hundred years old. This guy has utterly terrible spelling and grammar and I'm sure a lot of the stuff is outdated, but I thought you'd probably still be interested." I looked at his rapt face, and grinned. "And I was right."

"Most definitely."

Before I could give Severus the book, there was a soft but sharp noise and a glow, seeming to come from his robes. "Merlin," Snape muttered in exasperation, and pulled the communication mirror out. "What?" he growled.

"Good afternoon, Severus," came Albus Dumbledore's calm voice, tinged with amusement.

"Oh, it's you," Snape replied, sounding grudgingly respectful. "What do you want, Commander?"

"Would you mind terribly if you dropped by at my office before the feast? There's something concerning your Potions classes that I have to talk to you about." It wasn't really a request.

"Could it wait until later?" Snape asked, seeming to know it wouldn't work."I'm about to take Tobias down, and we're a little late as it is."

Even though I couldn't see the man, I could practically _feel _Albus twinkling. "I think that after you hear what I have to say, you will be glad that I told you before classes. By the way, good afternoon, Tobias. Do you have your classes prepared?"

"Hello, Albus. And yes, I pretty much do." I grinned wryly. "I'm sorry to say that there won't be much genuine Divination in my class, what with me not knowing anything about it and all. But they'll definitely learn."

"You shouldn't wager on that," Snape warned darkly. "Most students are uncooperative at the best of times, and it's simply astonishing how hard you have to pound things into their minds until they recall even the simplest of facts."

"Now Severus," Dumbledore said reprovingly. "You know it isn't like that. Most students enjoy learning." I privately thought that you would have to be a highly masochistic person to enjoy Professor Snape's classes. I might call the man by his first name and accept him as a friend, but that didn't mean I'd forgotten what had gone on when I was a kid.

"Um," I said, "I can probably get down to the Great Hall on my own. I've been there before, though I was a wolf then so things might seem a bit different. But I doubt there'll be much of a problem."

"Good!" said Albus cheerfully. "It's all settled, then. Severus, I'll expect you up in my office in ten minutes." The glow faded, then vanished.

Snape glared at me. "Congratulations, Tobias. Now I will have the pleasure of Albus' company, who is undoubtedly going to tell me something I don't want to hear."

I shrugged. "Maybe he'll give you a raise?"

He sneered. "Oh, of course. That's why he left it to the last minute, when I'd have no time to think up a reasonable objection."

I nodded ruefully. "Yeah, you've got a point. But it would have happened anyway — you've got no right to blame _me _for that." I put the book on the table. "You can come back and get this later. Right now I think you'd better go see the Headmaster."

"Commander," Snape corrected.

"Yeah…" My brow furrowed. "Why _do _you call Albus 'Commander'? It seems a rather militarian title for the Headmaster of a school."

"Perhaps if he were _only _a Headmaster," Snape replied, subconsciously drifting into his "teacher" mode. "But calling him that is a sign of respect, for Albus is a whole lot more than that. All through his teaching career, he's guided students along what he believed was the best path for them. To then he was a nice, slightly eccentric old man who had great insight into human psyche, and this made him intensely popular amongst most of the community. He was — and is — also a great leader, good at making people think that his ideas and decisions are their own. This alone would have made him deeply respected, but his achievements don't stop there.

"When there were problems with Dark Lords in the 1940s and 80s, he was the one that kept everyone from panicking. While all the other people in high positions fretted and fled to other continents, he stayed around; a visible sign of encouragement and hope. He 'managed' things so that food didn't run out, muggles didn't discover our world, and death was minimal. In those times of war, he was also the Commander of all the Aurors, soldiers and other military personnel, as well as being the Leader of an elite group of witches and wizards called the Order of the Phoenix." He looked at me seriously. "And, those Dark Lords I spoke of? Commander Albus Dumbledore destroyed both of them."

I didn't speak for a few moments, but eventually, "…Whoa," I murmured. "Dumbledore did all that?" I was only half acting.

I suppose I'd never quite acknowledged how much Albus had done for the world. He'd never mentioned his achievements, and in the last year I could have got to know him I'd been so wrapped up in myself that I quite possibly wouldn't have cared if he'd told me he'd once been the head of the Mafia, with the Giant Squid as his father.

I really regretted that now. Even in he was a manipulative bastard, Albus Dumbledore would have been someone worth getting to know.

Wolf yawned inside my head, waking up and just hearing the last part of my thoughts. _You can get to know him now, _he said reasonably.

I shook a mental head. _No, I can't. He doesn't trust me enough. _

_Smart human._

_Hmm._

Severus seemed to shake himself out of teaching mode. "I should probably be going," he said. "Do you know the way to the Great Hall?"

I shrugged. "Not completely, but I'm sure I'll manage." He looked at me skeptically, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Would you please tell me how to get down to the Great Hall? I am but a stupid boy who forgets things too easily."

Noticing my sarcasm but ignoring it, Snape launched into a detailed explanation, and I made myself look like I was listening. I really _did _start to take an interest at the "make sure you don't seem overly threatening when you go through the empty hall on the second floor — you'll set off alarms" and "if you meet any ghosts, _immediately _state your name and position in Hogwarts. They don't know you, so they'll be instantly suspicious".

"Why didn't you tell me all of this before I decided to go on a jaunt through the building as a wolf?" I demanded.

"Well, you didn't need it then," Snape replied as though it were obvious. "It's like what you told me a few days ago, about the Ministry of Magic incident. Absolutely _no _magical devices can detect you when you're an unregistered animagus."

I glared, only slightly appeased. "It still would have been good to know. What if I'd had to become human for some reason?" I shook my head. "Anyway, you should probably leave now, unless you want a mildly disappointed all-powerful being on your hands. You can come back for the book later."

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, I'm sure I know the way. Bloody hell, Severus; you remind me of a fussing mother."

"And _you _remind me of a sullen, impatient schoolchild, quickly running out of unique and cutting retorts and reverting to overused and highly cliché terms."

"Hey, easy on the schoolchild part!" I replied. "I'm twenty-five, you know. And you're only my elder by forty years or so."

Snape's eyes went wide in anger. "Fourty years! You incompetent little…I can't believe you think I'm in my sixties! I'll have you know that I'm thirty-seve…" He trailed off, seeing me looking at him with a big, broad grin on my face. Almost self-consciously, he picked at an invisible piece of lint on his robe. "Touché," he murmured.

Eventually Severus left, though I almost had to push him out the door to get him to go (he must have really been quite nervous about what Albus was going to tell him). Once he'd gone I took a deep breath to still my own rising nerves, and checked that all my weapons were on me (you could never be too careful). Then I grabbed my wand, locked up my rooms and walked down the stairs.

I was almost out of the Divination tower when I heard a faint noise coming from behind a stone thestral statue, sounding like voices slowly coming closer. I paused.

"—a smart move, Luna, really. I know _I'm _really enjoying this merry prance through the butterfields." I could practically see the sarcasm dripping from the female voice's lips, and my eyebrows rose. The voice itself wasn't familiar, but I had the feeling that it _should _have been.

"Butterfields?" came a calm voice I instantly recognized. "What are they?"

"The phrase you're looking for it 'field of buttercups', Allison; not 'butterfields'. If you're going to make sarcastic remarks, at least say them properly." Ah, and I remembered that voice, too. I wondered what Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and someone called "Allison" were doing, walking in Hogwarts' secret passages while the feast was going on

"Shut up, Ginny. You know what I mean." The girl growled. "Merlin, I could almost _murder _both of you."

I could practically see the curious tilt of Luna's head. "With what?" she asked.

"Huh? What do you mean, 'with what'?"

"Well," she said reasonably, "there's not much around here to murder with, is there? I suppose you could use the shield of that knight, but he'd most likely object. And you could probably manage it with Ginerva's scarf, but that would take a long time and we don't have much of that, do we? We have to find a way out of here."

Ginny laughed tiredly. "She has you there, Ally. Maybe it's just me, but I'd rather be out of this place than watch you kill my friend with a scarf mum knit—"

"Look!" the person called Allison exclaimed. "There's the end of the corridor! _Finally!" _I heard running footsteps, and stepped to the side of the statue.

"…Okay, so now what do we do?" Allison asked. "It's the back of a statue."

"We can see that," Ginny replied. "There has to be something we can do to open in, though. I hope we don't need a password."

"Hmm," Allison agreed. "Let's see if there's something we need to push." There were faint noises, and I imagined the three girls pressing everything in the corridor.

I was about to make myself known and tell them how to get out of the place — this passageway was marked on the Marauders' Map, and I remembered it — but Luna beat me to it. "Mr Thestral," she said serenely to the statue, "do you think you could let us leave this place, please? It really is quite nice, but we have to meet the first years now, and we're late."

"Luna, that will never wor… Okay, maybe it will." The thestral was very slowly moving to the side. "How did you know what to say?" Allison sounded amazed.

"Well, how would I know what you wanted me to do if you just kept poking and prodding me?" Luna asked obviously. "I'd likely just snap at you and refuse to open." She took a step out of the passageway, looked up, and saw me. "Oh, hello," she said absently.

The girl behind her looked up, and started. Once again I had the feeling that I _should _know who she was, but didn't. She was around average height, and a little chubby. Her red messy hair was up in a pony-tail, and her eyes were a dull brown, seeming larger than they were due to the square glasses she wore. She was slightly familiar…but I couldn't figure it out. Maybe she was someone I'd only seen distantly in Hogwarts as a student. Her badge and tie proclaimed her a Ravenclaw, and I had to admit that, with the exception of Cho and Luna, I hadn't given that house much notice. "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously. "And why are you here?"

I stepped forward, the first layer of the mask I had chosen to wear slipping seamlessly into place. "My name is Professor Thatcher," I said neutrally. "I'm the new Divination teacher this year. However, I think the question is 'what are _you _doing here'?"

Ginny walked out of the passageway, and I was very thankful that I'd had time to come to terms with the fact that I was going to meet people that had been dead. She saw me, and blinked. I wasn't surprised; I didn't quite bear the appearance of a teacher. I probably looked around thirty, and was wearing the same clothes I'd had on when I'd gone to the Ministry.

I raised an eyebrow. "How many more of you are hiding away in that corridor?"

Ginny's ears went pink in embarrassment. "Just us," she said. "We were, er, trying to take a shortcut to the feast, but the plan sort of backfired when the staircase pulled us in here. Sir."

My other eyebrow went up. "This certainly is a strange school, isn't it? Not quite user-friendly."

"The school would never hurt us," Luna said wisely. "It's alive, you know. It can feel all our presences around, and protects us." It felt quite heartwarming to hear Luna say that, actually. In a sea full of changed people, she was still no different from the girl I had met at the start of fifth year. Even after the siege she hadn't changed much, apart from being more introspective and slightly more down to earth. And, unlike the majority of the people I called friends, she had still been alive when I was captured by the Death Eaters. I couldn't be certain if she was now, however.

I nodded. "It makes sense." I ignored the two other girls, who were staring at me in incredulation. I doubt any adult had ever said that Luna's observations were logical before.

As always when I was in a conversation, many different ways that I could do things flittered through my head. I decided to stick with my first impulse, however, and walked past the girls, continuing along my way. When I was about ten metres past them, I turned back around and raised my brows. "Well," I asked, "are you coming?"

I strode down the corridors, the girls following a little behind me. As I walked, I noticed something strange about the castle that I hadn't ever really seen before. It looked…shabbier than it ever had in my world. The shine had come off the metals, the walls were peeling, and a little colour seemed to have faded out of everything. Also, there were no suits of armour anywhere…now I thought about it, though, I had an answer for that. When I had gone to Ollivanders, I had seen all that missing armour standing outside the Hogwarts gates, but had only given it half a glance because I had just got Wolf back, and was busy rejoicing. It must be some sort of defence, then: something to stop any Vipers getting in. Perhaps…perhaps the shabbier castle was related to the defence system in some way.

I shamelessly eavesdropped on the three kids talking behind me. The one called Allison was still a little suspicious of me, wondering why I had been seemingly waiting for them to come out of the passage. Luna suggested that I'd divined where they were, as I _was_ the Divination teacher. Ginny wondered if they were finally going to have a competent teacher for the subject.

They all decided that hell would have to freeze over before something like that happened.

_Ginny and Luna seem quite similar to themselves in our world, _I said to wolf.

_Yes, _he agreed. _But the other one…I don't know. She is familiar, but I can't quite pinpoint where I've seen her before. _

_It's frustrating, isn't it?_

I luckily didn't encounter any of the new…eccentric parts of the castle, and before too long I was nearing the side door into the Great Hall. I paused for a moment to get ready, imagining the students and teachers behind the door and unintentionally pulling a memory back from the past.

_I jump from the last few stairs and race down the corridor, puffing and panting but not quite coherent enough to stop running. The sight of Professor Trelawney, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra gutted and hanging from rough, rusty pegs is still foremost in my mind, and the strange, dogged part of my brain has taken control, dodging flames and running too fast for any Death Eaters to catch._

_I run to the door of the Great Hall and burst it open, not looking anywhere and only half remembering that I still have a Dark Lord to defeat. I immediately slip on something, however, and fall to the ground._

_I become aware of the noise; shouts of pleasure, dark and painful curses, cries of pain. I start seeing again, and the first thing I notice is the dark, dark red liquid that I had slipped on. My eyes move along the blood without conscious effort from my brain, and I make out lifeless, bleached white fingers, followed by a body that has literally been _cut in half.

_I don't hear anything, but suddenly there is someone standing above me. My scar, which had previously just been aching dully, flares to painful life, and I wince and look up._

_It's Voldermort._

I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear it, then looked at the girls — now much closer to me than they had been. Having wasted enough time already, I purposefully walked toward the door. However, before I could open it it opened from the other side, and out stepped Ron Weasley, closely followed by the younger version of me.

For a split second my eyes widened, but I swiftly put on my "neutral, albeit slightly ironic" face. Ron seemed to be talking to Harry, but trailed off when he saw me; he looked pretty terrified, actually. Oh yes, he and Harry had come in on me when I was still sick, bedridden and empty, hadn't they? And they'd hidden under the bed, been caught be Severus, been sworn at by me, and got detentions until Christmas.

Harry slowly turned from Ron to me, eyes widening in the same way that mine had. I made a mental note not to stand too close to my other self; I may have changed a lot from my mid-teenage appearance, but if we were close together I'm sure _someone _would notice a resemblance.

I nodded at the kids. "Good afternoon Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. May I ask what you're doing, leaving the Great Hall before the feast has finished?" If they happened to question how I knew their names, I'm sure they would assume Snape had told me.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Ron made a noise sort of between squeaking and choking, and when I caught his eyes he took a step back.

"I'm that frightening, am I?" I observed.

Harry recovered first. "Er, um, yes — I mean _no, _sorry sir, um…" It probably would have been better if he hadn't spoken. Allison snorted behind me, and Harry glared back at her, gaining a little more composure. "Um, who are you?"

"Professor Thatcher, Divination teacher. I believe your previous one had an argument with a Hippogriff, so I'm taking over while he recovers in the ward for 'special' patients in St. Mungo's. Now, were you planning to go anywhere?"

This time, Ron answered. "Er, no, not now that…yeah. Erm, we'll just go back in the Hall, shall we?" He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him back through the door.

"Real subtle, brother," Ginny murmured.

I nodded to the three witches, just managing to stop a grin. "I suppose I will see you in class," I said, and went through the side door.

I took an overview of the Great Hall. It was pretty much the same as when I was a student, with the four House tables, teacher table, and a few lasting remnants from the House that won the Cup the previous year — Hufflepuff, this time. The ceiling was copying a wet, dreary day, fitting for the end of summer, with the rain dissolving two metres over everyone's heads. The students were cheerfully talking and eating food, and the first years hadn't yet arrived. The teachers were also conversing amongst themselves, and seemed a little more laid-back than I'd seen them before. I assumed it was because Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape all weren't around.

I walked in the direction of the High Table, feeling curious glances of students on me. Sirius seemed to be having an animated discussion with Remus and Lily involving lots of wide arm movements, while Hagrid, Flitwick and Sinistra were watching on, occasionally chipping in. Hagrid…he was another person whom I hadn't spent nearly enough time as I should have.

I wasn't making any big noises, but Remus seemed to see something out of the corner of his eye and looked up. He didn't seem surprised to see me, but did raise an eyebrow at my attire. I shrugged in reply; I was used to these clothes, and after seven years wearing the same thing, it was sort of hard to change. Anyway, I couldn't fit my numerous little weapons in normal robes, unless I got one's like Moody's. And that would sort of defeat the purpose of "blending in".

Sirius followed Remus' gaze, and, when he saw me, gave a welcoming grin followed by a big wave. Lily also turned, and I wondered again why she had divorced James. I had a few clues, but nothing big enough to gain a conclusion from, and it wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous to go around asking people about strangers' love lives.

"Afternoon, Professor Thatcher," Remus said to me when I was in hearing distance.

I was about to reply, but got cut off with a, "Hey Tobias! How's it going?" from Sirius. By now the teachers were looking at me curiously: wondering what I was like, probably.

I nodded. "Good. It's going well." Then, addressing the teachers, "Hello, everyone. My name is Professor Tobias Thatcher. I'm looking forward to getting to know you all," _again, _"and I hope we can all get along." I looked around. "Er, is there a spare seat I can take? I don't really want to sit in Albus' place, or Minerva's, or Severus'."

There was one seat available, between Hagrid and Professor Vector. When I sat, Hagrid gave me a cheerful smile and a pat on the shoulder, and I winced minutely from its force. "It's nice to meet yeh, Tobias. Where do yeh hail from?"

My gaze slid to Sirius, but he had gone back to his conversation, so I decided to keep with the story he had created. "Australia, actually. I went there when I was twelve, so that's why I've kept the British accent."

"Oh yeh?" Hagrid sounded interested. "You must'a been there for the War of the Colonies, then?"

"Hmm," I agreed noncomittally. I knew only a tiny bit about that war (Binns hadn't been interested in teaching recent history, and even if he had been, I wouldn't have listened), and made a mental note to get as much information on the subject as I could. In the meantime… "It's not something I really like to talk about."

"Yeh, of course," Hagrid said sympathetically. "It mus' be a hard topic to bring about, bad memories, an' all. But if you don't mind me askin', what's Australia like? I've neva' bin there. It sounds an intrestin' place."

"Oh, Australia…er…" I cast around my mind frantically for any information I had about the country. It wasn't much. "It's a big, open space," I said vaguely. "Red. Er, lots of eucalyptus trees. And koalas. And kangaroos." Feeling on slightly more stable ground, I gained more confidence. "They ride of kangaroos like horses, you know. And they have those funny accents, like they're talking through their nose. And, they hunt…crocodiles?" Now, that didn't sound quite right, but I was sure I'd heard it _somewhere_. "And it's summer all year long. Oh, and the only magical creatures that are around are little dragons, and this giant snake all the colours of the rainbow that acts as a sort of guardian spirit."

Hagrid's eyes grew wide. "That's one hellava country you got there. I'd give away me hut t' see it for myself."

"Well, it's not all it's cracked up to be," I said, backtracking hastily. "No dangerous animals at all, nope, and it's so hot it almost burns. And the people don't really ever do anything. It's a very, _very _boring place."

Wolf was chuckling in the background. _Brother, you have no idea what you're talking about, do you? You shouldn't have said anything in the first place._

_Go to hell, _I replied, irritated. _Like you could do any better. _

_Yes, but I wouldn't try._

"So," I said, changing the subject, "what subject do you teach, Mr…"

"Ah, sorry 'bout that!" he exclaimed, and shook my hand. "Rubeus Hagrid is me name, but everyone just calls me Hagrid. I'm the groundskeeper o' Hogwarts, an' also the Care of Magical Creatures Professor."

"It's nice to meet you, Hagrid," I said truthfully. Hagrid was someone else who hadn't changed at all from my schooldays, and it was refreshing to be around him. "So, what classes are available at Hogwarts?" Snape had already told me, but it was nice to have a cross-reference from someone who was physically incapable of lying properly.

A thinking expression crossed the half-giant's face. "Well, there's the normal ones: Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, Charms with Professor Flitwick, Defence Against the Dark Arts with Sirius Black, Potions with Professor Snape, Herbology with Professor Sprout, Divination with Professor Par — sorry, with you, Care o' Magical creatures with me, Astronomy with Professor Sinistra, Arithmancy with Professor Vector, Ancient Runes with Professor Mancefield, an' History o' Magic with Professor Binns."

"But there's more people than that here," I said.

Hagrid nodded his shaggy head. "Yeh, there is. Lily Evans — that's the lass off to the right — teaches Battle Charms. Y'know, Patronus an' little nifty tricks that migh' save your life someday. Then there's Remus Lupin, who pretty much takes all the theory for mine an' Sirius' classes, an' also acts as a sort of councellor for students who are lonely, or lost their parents in the war, or…anythin' else that they migh' have gone through. An', once every two months, Snape and Alastor Moody get together an' teach the students about war and survival."

I blinked. Snape hadn't mentioned _that. _I wondered why.

Hagrid started chuckling like he'd just recalled some great joke, and my brows raised. "What is it?" I asked curiously.

"Ah, nothin' really, just rememberin' what's happening in Potions this year." His grin grew wider.

I copied Luna, tilting my head to the side. "No, now I really want to know. What's happening in Potions?"

"Well, you probably won't get it, not knowin' the person involved, but…okay, I'll tell yeh. I can't help feelin' a little sorry for Professor Snape." He shook his head, still grinning. "Well, there's one Professor yeh haven't met yet, who's going to be workin' pretty close to Severus…"

000

"_What?_ Albus, please tell me it's not true. Please, I'll do anything…"

Dumbledore looked at Snape with not very well concealed amusement. "I'm sorry, Severus, but there's nothing that can be don—"

"I'll be a willing puppet — I'll act like a student for a week — I'll even be nice to _Potter. _Just please, Albus, don't do this." He was past the stage where he cared that he was begging. Anything to stop Albus' "brilliant idea".

"I'm sure it won't be so bad—"

"Not so bad? _Not so bad?" _Snape could feel the red splotches of rage growing on his cheek. "You put that _menace _teaching my class, and you say it's _not so bad?_"

"Matthew isn't teaching your class," Albus replied calmly. "He is your assistant. And it's only going to be for the next year or so." A faintly exasperated expression crossed his face. "Severus, you know why I'm doing this."

"Well, yes, obviously," Snape snarled. "We must keep the facets of the Decagon as close together as possible, where you can manipu — sorry, _advise _us better. Doesn't stop Moody from staying away."

There was a knock on the door, and Dumbledore waved a hand to open it. In came Black, whose attempt to look solemn was ruined by the manic twitching of his lip. "Afternoon, Headmaster," he said. Then to Snape, "Hey Rus."

Severus bared his teeth. "For the last time, do _not_ call me that, Black. Not only is it unsafe should either Potter be in the room, it is also makes me want to scream an obscenity and borrow one of Thatcher's numerous weapons. I'm sure even you can use your limited imagination to make a guess at what I would do with it."

"Whoa, a bit touchy today, are we?"

"Severus has just learnt of some news that he is a little…surprised…about," the Commander said carefully. "I don't think he was quite expecting it."

"And pray tell, Albus, why was that?" Snape asked venomously. "Do you expect me to believe that you had just _forgotten_ to tell me this until the day before classes start? Old age catching up on you, perhaps? I suppose it could happen to anyone."

"I would never deliberately keep something you need to know from you, Severus," Albus answered honestly. Well, of course he would be honest, Snape thought. It was easy to tell the truth when you structured your sentences like the Commander did.

He glared at Albus in a way that said he hadn't given in yet, then turned his gaze to the mutt. "Why are you here?"

"I was sent up by Minerva, to ask 'where the hell are you? The first years are now in the Entrance Hall'," Black said promptly, still not able to keep the grin of his face.

Albus' brows raised. "Are they? Merlin, time is flying rather fast lately. Unfortunately, we're still waiting for —" There was a knock on the door, and Dumbledore smiled in satisfaction. "Ah, here he is." He waved the door open, and Zabini poked his head in.

"Why hello!" he exclaimed. "Gosh Albus, I'm _dreadfully _sorry I'm so late."

"No harm done, Matthew," the Commander said cheerily. "I was just telling Severus what's going to happen this year with his classes."

The guy jumped happily into the room, hat flopping around crazily but still, surprisingly, staying firmly stuck on his head. "Isn't it spiffing?" he said to Snape, excited. "We'll be in the same class _every day, _both teaching potions! We'll see each other all the time. Oh, we'll have the greatest conversations…"

"I assure you, I share your sentiments," Severus replied, not even trying to sound sincere. Matthew wouldn't pick up ill feeling in a room full of Vipers.

Zabini twirled around, and caught sight of Black. The lovesick expression crossed his face again. "H-h-hello, Siri-Sirius," he stuttered.

The mutt rolled his eyes. "Afternoon, Zabini. Can we please get _going? _With the amount of time they've had to wait, the first years will be having nervous seizures."

That got everyone moving, and soon enough the four wizards were walking along Hogwarts' corridors, Albus stopping every so often to talk to a painting.

As they went, Snape came up next to Black. "Did Tobias get to the Great Hall?"

He nodded. "Yep."

Severus glared. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What happened?"

"Where?"

Snape growled. "Answer the question, Black. I have a very short temper at the moment, and your impertinent remarks aren't helping."

"Aw, but you're so easy to bait, Rus."

Severus' hands balled into fists, and he bared his teeth. "Do. Not. Call. Me. That."

"Children," Dumbledore said sternly, "play nicely."

Snape took a deep breath to steady himself. "Did Tobias Thatcher do anything to give himself away, when he introduced himself to the students and teachers?"

Black snorted. "Of course he didn't. Who do you think we're talking about here?"

He had to admit that the mutt had a point. Tobias was about as likely to give himself away as Zabini was to grow a brain, turn himself into a woman and join a female rights group.

"I can't _wait _to finally meet Tobias properly!" said person exclaimed. "I'm so excited!"

They came to the Great Hall eventually, and Snape had to stop himself from bowing his head in shame — schoolyard habits were hard to forget — when Minerva's furious face came into view. She gave them all a glare that said she'd give them a piece of her mind when there was time, then got out of her seat and went back to the Entrance Hall, presumably to bring the first years in.

Snape ran his eyes along the High Table, and gave a nod and small smile in reply when he saw Lily waving cheerfully at him. Looking for Tobias, he found him near the end of the table, talking to Hagrid. He seemed to feel someone's eyes on him, though, and looked up. Seeing Snape, he gave a mock salute, then went back to his conversation.

Severus slipped into a seat next to Lily. "You're pretty late," she observed.

"I think I rather deserve it, now that I am about to have my most tedious year yet," Snape replied. "Did _you _know that Zabini is to be my Potions assistant?"

She blinked. "No. I did hear a rumour, but it sounded too unbelievable to even consider."

He growled. "They were obviously trying to keep it from you, so you didn't tell me. The manipulative…"

"Smart, though."

"Apparently not intelligent enough to realise what a mess Zabini will make with my classroom, potions and students."

Minerva brought the first years in, and everyone was momentarily silenced. The Sorting Hat sung a song about friendship, trust, and unity, then sent students off to be separated and discriminated by house. Snape made careful note of the new Slytherins, and decided that his normal ten-minute talk to his new students would have to be lengthened. With the exception of two kids from prominent pureblood families, they looked petrified.

While the sorting was going on, Severus half noticed Zabini getting up and talking to Tobias, using excessive arm movements tomake upfor the soft voice he had to use. Thatcher looked highly amused, and one time he caught Snape's eye and looked at him incredulously, as if saying "is he for real"? Snape nodded mournfully. Unfortunately, he was.

"Zellery, Nathan", was finally placed in Gryffindor, and the sorting was finished. Albus stood up and gave his normal eccentric speech, welcoming the first years and wishing everyone a pleasant year filled with learning. He reeled off the list of new banned objects, and reminded Prefects to inform the new students about the slightly strange parts of the castle. Then he introduced Tobias.

"Professor Thatcher will be taking over all of Professor Partridge's classes. Will you stand so everyone can see you, Tobias? Make him feel welcome." The man stood nonchalantly, and there was a light clapping from all houses, not knowing what to expect from the new teacher. Dumbledore nodded to him, and he sat down again.

"Thank you. Now, there is one last thing I have to tell you before you head off back to your dorms. As I'm sure you all know, tonight there will be an End of Summer Ball for students fourth year and over." The noise immediately picked up as the children all started talking to each other; the higher years excited, the lower years disappointed. Dumbledore smiled. "I can see it is an exciting topic to talk about. Well, Professor McGonagall and I have thought about it, and decided that the best time to begin would be eight o'clock, when you are fresh but not too tired. And, to give you more freedom, there will be no more than three Professors in the 'Dance' Hall at a time." There were cheers from the students.

The Commander glanced upward. "It doesn't look like the rain will stop any time soon, so I unfortunately don't think anyone will be going outside. But that hardly matters, as I'm sure you will have a great time inside. I would tell you not to stay up too late, but I know I would be ignored, so I'll just say one thing." He paused with a serious expression, but that broke into a smile when he opened his mouth. "Let's sing the school song!"

"He didn't mention Zabini," Snape murmured to Lily as everyone made a fool of themselves by singing out of tune. "Why is that?"

She shrugged. "He probably thought Matthew would do something stupid when he stood up. Not such a farfetched thought, actually. Look at what he's doing now." Snape looked. Zabini was bouncing around the High Table, shaking Professors' hands with a big grin on his face. "I'm actually more worried about the Ball," Lily continued. "_Three Professors? _Maybe you're right that Albus is losing his memory. Doesn't he remember what it's like to be a teenager? Three adults won't be nearly enough to keep them in line."

"Maybe he wants them to learn a lesson," Snape suggested. "If anything, at least the first day of classes won't be so tiring. The students will be half asleep." _And with huge hangovers, _he said to himself. _They always manage to smuggle in alcohol, somehow. _

Another year had started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Severus was sure it wouldn't be an easy one.

000

I once again apologise for getting this chapter out so late, and I hope the contents _in_ the chapter make up for it. I don't think I got Luna's character quite right…ah well.

You've probably noticed that Allianne's name seems to have morphed into "Allison". This is not due to my poor memory; I decided to change the name because "Allianne" honestly sounds very Mary-Sueish. I've also done a few minor changes to the chapters, but the only one you're likely to notice is in Chapter Five, where I've made the Slytherin Trio slightly less reminiscent of cardboard cut-outs.

**Next chapter:** The Ball. Harry's too distracted about the new Divination teacher to concentrate, Hermione decides she wants to shock everyone, Ginny and Ally's plans to "just have fun" are royally wrecked, Blaise and Luna have a slightly strange conversation, Ron and Draco get drunk, and Theo wonders why everyone's laughing at him. Just the kids in this chapter, and I'll try to take no longer than three weeks. I can't promise, though. This is going to be another quite long chapter.

And one more thing. I've been saying over and over again, all through this fic, that HarryTobias will not be in any relationships. Now, I'm definitely sticking to that claim. However, I _am _planning to ship a few of the kids in the story; not all of them and not totally seriously, but honestly, they're teenagers, and more than half of teenage mind is totally focussed on romantic relationships or sex (trust me, I know. I _am _a teenager, as well as a sort of counsellor to my friends). I already know one or two ships I'm going to write in, but I'm wavering on the others. So, that is where you come in.

Tell me what ships with the kids that I should put in, and tell me your reasons for wanting this. Keep in mind, though, that whatever I decide in the end is not going to be explicit or graphic; partly because this site doesn't house NC-17, but mostly because I can't write smut for cookies, and tend to get extremely embarrassed whenever I try.

Anyway, review! I may not have said it much in the past, but I appreciate every comment I get. And I will answer _all _your reviews on my LJ (cough because I have no real life to write about cough).


	14. Chapter 11

Gawd, that chapter was hard to write. Anyway, enjoy. This is basically just a filler chapter, but also helps to provide a bit of personality depth to my younger characters. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and will be replied to in my LJ.

**Chapter 11**

If you were to announce to the inhabitants of Hogwarts that Commander Albus Dumbledore was an omniscient and impossible to fool being, there would be, perhaps, three people who disagreed with you. The first would be Dumbledore himself, and I'm sure you could easily guess the second. The last may have been a bit harder to figure out.

Of course, Albus _wasn't _omniscient, though he had no qualms about people thinking he was. He was highly intelligent, powerful and manipulative, but he couldn't tell you immediately what was happening in five different parts of the castle, and nor could he see the future. He might have had the portraits telling him conversations that the students were involved in, and he was usually able to tell if people were lying or not, but he didn't know anything about Tobias' past, and he couldn't see what was going on in the Slytherin common room a few hours before the Ball was due to start...

Draco could, however. He was sitting cross-legged on a cushy chair near the fire, a book propped up in his lap, trying to ignore the exited talking of students getting ready for the Ball. Every few moments he would twitch impulsively, then shoot his head from side to side hoping no one had noticed.

He was going _crazy. _All those people around him getting ready for a night of fun, and he had to sit still in a chair reading an old, dry Potions book. Damn Nott and ZabiniIt hadn't been so bad at the feast, but now his friends were gone and there was nothing to get his mind off anything.

What was the time? Draco looked up to the big clock above the fire, and groaned. It was only just past five! He couldn't do anything for another two hours.

"I bought the most stunning dress! It's red silk with sequins and tassels and frills and I love it!"

"A _dress_? Martha darling, that is _so _out of fashion right now, especially among Slytherins. What you need is tight shirts and jeans, with glamorous make up and layers of sparkly jewelry."

Draco ground his teeth together, just managing to stop himself from telling the two fifth year girls that _no, _dresses weren't out of fashion; not unless you went to one of Pansy's rave parties (though if you went to one of those you would probably be too drugged up to _know_ what youwere wearing, let alone care about it). Speaking of Pansy, she was at present coming toward Draco with a counterfeit smile on her face, made almost demonic by her powdery white face and eyes surrounded by kohl.

"Draco, my love," she said, sickly sweet, "you know you've always been the only one for me. I woke up this morning, and thought, 'hey, I feel empty inside'. Do you know why that is, Draco? Because you weren't beside me."

"Drop the act, Parkinson," Draco said, leaning on an elbow. "No, I will not ask my father to get you free alcohol and narcotics." He shook his head. "Honestly, your acting is getting worse every day. I thought you were a Slytherin. Anyway, you know I'm not interested in the least."

"And why is that?" Pansy tossed her hair dramatically.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "You're ugly. You're face reminds me of a serial killer. You're fat. You've got a pug nose. And you're a girl."

She dropped her scary smile; the smile part, anyway. "Like you can talk," she growled. "Your hair's a mess, you've got acne sprouting all over your face, and you're weak and pathetic. You have a total of two friends, and they only put up with you because of who your father is."

Draco's relationship with Pansy was somewhat...unusual. Whenever they were together all they did was degrade each other. And yet, neither of them really hated the other – they were Slytherins, after all, and tended to stick together. Draco respected the girl, and also couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her.

Both her parents had died on her fifteenth birthday (they had been Vipers. Draco didn't know the full story, but his mother told him it involved a mission gone wrong). Before that, they had been quite close friends, but after... She cut herself off from everyone for half a year, not speaking to anyone and not doing any work. And when she came out of her shell, she was changed. She became popular again because she was so rebellious and outward going. She got into bad habits – drinking, smoking, and a drug called _Hallspire. _

She never really gained any real friends again, though. The insults she regularly traded with Draco were probably the closest thing to it.

She didn't want to go "see someone". She didn't want anyone to comfort her, or to "understand" her. Draco respected that, even if he didn't like it. Sometimes you had to do things on your own.

"So," Pansy said, "why aren't you with your prissy little friends, arguing over what you'll wear to this lame, retarted party?"

"Can't say anything. Bet."

"Oh yeah? How much?"

"Six Galleons."

She snorted. "You're _rich, _Malfoy. Six lousy Galleons aren't going to increase your wallet much, and neither will it matter if you have to give them the money."

He stuck his nose in the air. "It's a matter of pride, not about the money."

"Hmm, so Zabini and Nott _were _right about you having Gryffindor tendencies. I thought they were, but I had to make sure."

Draco jumped out of the seat as though someone had just stabbed him with a knife. "When did they say that?" he demanded.

"They're making their ways through the corridors right now, telling everyone they see that you've made a bet based on honour and pride, and also about all the times you've displayed Gryffindoric traits. Like that time you_ didn't _blackmail Blaise, even when you needed something from her and had potentially damaging information..."

Draco gave a strangled cry and flew out of the room. Pansy could hear him shouting, "It's not true! It's _not true! _They're lying! They're trying to get me to talk about the Ball – oh shit!"

Pansy sniggered, then turned to a dark corner of the Common room where two figures were huddled together, laughing so much that one started hiccupping. She strode toward the people and held out a hand expectantly. "Before the end of the world, if you don't mind," she said impatiently.

Theodore leaned forward and placed three galleons in her hand, being the calmer of the two. "A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Parkinson," he said courteously, grinning wickedly through his braids. "I hope future endeavors will be just as rewarding."

She brought out her wand and tapped it on the money, muttering a charm. It glowed green for a moment, and she nodded. "Genuine."

Blaise emerged from the darkness. "Thanks so much," hic, "Pansy. We couldn't have don," hic, "done it without you."

She shrugged. "It involved money and humiliating Draco. Of course I was going to do it. Although," here she smiled darkly, "you might not be feeling so happy when you discover what Malfoy has been saying about _you _two earlier today. Something involving a bottle of firewhiskey, Blaise's brother and a song called _Dancing Naked in Potions Class..._"

Pansy watched the two race out of the room, Blaise screaming that she'd kill Draco, and grinned. Then she put the three galleons in her pocket amongst seven others that had once been Draco's, and went over to Millicent to see if she'd had any luck in procuring illegal substances.

Over on the opposite side of the school, Hermione was mentally wrestling with herself while pacing outside Mme Pomfrey's office. It had sounded a good idea when she left the common room, but her logical mind had started to show through and she was now wondering if she wasn't going to make a huge fool of herself, and even if there was a point to what she was about to do.

She was...well, a bookworm. Totally focused on work, sticking by the rules, trying to stop someone if they didn't do what she saw as the right thing. She wasn't exactly ugly, but she definitely wasn't pretty, and she was reasonably happy that way.

However, some things were wrong about that statement. She didn't always stick by the rules, for one; she sometimes went around Hogwarts after curfew, she'd procured a note let her into the restricted section through quite shady methods, and she even had a secret room that no one – well, almost no one – knew about. And she _was _focused on school work (the one time she got less than an O on an exam, she'd locked herself up in said secret room for the whole afternoon, blowing pillows up and trying to ignore the stinging of her eyes), but it wasn't the only thing important in her life. The problem was that the other students didn't know what the other important things were, being miles away from Oxford where her parents and little brother lived.

So, the personality above wasn't really hers,but what all the students of Hogwarts _thought _she was like. She could usually live with that, though. It was hard to change people's perceptions unless she did something completely radical.

But lately, that had been just what Hermione wanted to do. Her emotions had begun to fizzle around uncontrollably, and she could quite suddenly go from being peaceful and calm to infuriatingly angry. Oh, she knew perfectly well that most of it was just hormones – it had been the same with _her _mother; the angst, bad moods and depression had come _after _all those early teenage years of growing up into her body – but having the knowledge of how things were going to happen didn't stop them from happening. Not at all.

She was sofrustrated with everyone in the Wizarding world. They were all narrow minded idiots who could only see their side of the argument, and only cared about the people _they _dubbed worthy. And now there was this stupid war going on with a very real chance that muggles would be caught in the crossfire, and most nights Hermione couldn't get to sleep because she was going crazy worrying over what might happen the family she hadn't seen for over a year.

And all the students were _blind! _They knew about the war, but they ignored it, pushed it to the back of their minds where it would cease to trouble them. As long as it didn't directly involve them they were fine to just sit back and let others do the work. It was an attitude that would likely get them all killed someday.

Hermione couldn't do anything about that, though, and she knew it. The last time she had tried to convert people into her beliefs (S.P.E.W.), it had been a spectacular failure, with people laughing behind her back and house-elves running away every time they saw her.

She knew she couldn't do anything to help with the war, especially not as a student, and the fact infuriated her. So to try and get her mind off the fact (and to let out some pent up aggression and energy) she had decided to shock the Hogwarts community. True, it wouldn't really get anything done, but at least she would know she could make an impact.

Now that she was here, however, she was starting to regret her impulse. She was being a silly girl, letting her emotions rule her when her head should have. It would probably make everyone laugh at her again, and however much she was made fun of, Hermione still hated it.

Not knowing what to do, Hermione laid her head against the wall next to the door, trying to weigh up the pros and cons of knocking on Pomfrey's door.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione started slightly, but then just growled and lent her head back on the wall. That was Potter's voice, and though he seemed strangely nice in that sentence, he was obviously gearing up to ask a not-so-intelligent query about what she was doing outside the hospital wing in that particular position.

"Shut up and go away," she replied. "I don't have any time for you or your smartarsed remarks at this moment."

There was a moment of silence, and then an ironic, "Well, I'd heard you didn't like Divination, so I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised."

What would Divination have to do with any… Hermione froze. Now that she was listening closer, she realised that the voice obviously wasn't Potter's. It was deeper, world-worn, and _much _more cynical than his.

She felt her face heat up, and slowly turned. Like she had expected but dreaded, it was not Harry James Potter who stared back at her, but that new teacher Professor Thatcher.

"Er, sorry sir," she said hurriedly. "I, erm, thought you were someone else."

He looked at her for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. "I suppose it happens, especially when you're as stressed as you seem presently to be."

"Stressed. Yeah." Embarrassed was probably the better word for it, actually. She couldn't remember the last time she had been rude to a teacher, even one who taught her most hated subject.

The Professor raised an eyebrow. "You seem to be okay, but you looked a little sickly before. Something wrong?"

"No," she said, flustered, "just wondering whether to take the stupid but fun course, or the smart and rational but tedious course."

"Well, you're a Gryffindor, aren't you?" the Professor said obviously. "You're known for impulsive, irrational behaviour, so you may as well have a little fun while you're at it." He then knocked on Pomfrey's door, which she opened a few seconds later. The two teachers conversed for a little while, but Hermione didn't notice. She was caught up in her thoughts.

She _was _a Gryffindor, wasn't she? She might want to be in Ravenclaw, but the sorting hat must have had some reason to put her where she was. And…if she was a Gryffindor, maybe it was time she started acting like one.

After all, mindless stupidity and decisions based on emotions had to have a place in the world somewhere.

"—and that's all I know about it. St Mungo's took over his case only a day after he'd been injured. The Hippogriff really took a huge chunk out of his hip, and with those poisoned berries it had just been eating…but now I'm getting off topic. Why did you want to know?"

"Oh, just curious. It's interesting to learn about my predecessor. Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time, and I think Miss Granger wants a word with you now. Thank you for your information." With a nod to both Pomfrey and Hermione, Professor Thatcher left.

The medi-witch turned to Hermione. "Now, Miss Granger. What was it that you wanted?"

Hermione took a deep breath. _Okay, this is it. God, I'm so embarrassed. What are people going to think of me now? Surely I could have figured out how to do it myself; I don't need Mme Pomfrey's help. But yes I do, at least for the first part. Come on, Granger, be more of a Gryffindor. You can do this. It's high time you did something stupid, so you should at least enjoy it._

"Er, could you make my teeth straight, please? And then could you help me do something about my hair and, er…make up?" She cringed slightly. It sounded so prissy and girly.

A slight crease appeared in Pomfrey's forehead. "Yes, I can definitely fix up your teeth, but surely you don't need me for the rest. What about your friends? Can't they help you?"

"Oh yeah. My, uh, friends. Um, well, they're…um…" Hermione was incredibly bad at lying at short notice, especially when it wasn't something really important. She saw the flash of pity in Pomfrey's face as she realised, and flushed in shame and anger. She _hated _when people pitied her! It was worse than when they hated her.

Pomfrey gestured at the bed. "Sit there, and I'll be back in a minute with the potion. Then we'll see what we can do about your hair..."

Down in the Ravenclaw Girls Dormitory, Luna was humming softly to herself as she gently brushed the knots out of Allison's messy hair. All the anxiety she might have had had vanished in a haze of contentment, and she had a little smile on her face.

"How do you know how to do this so well?" Allison asked, amazed. "It hardly hurts at all, and usually getting my hair free of knots is like pulling cats' whiskers off."

"My mother taught me," Luna replied serenely. "It's not all that hard, really."

"Oh." There was a little pause, then, "It must be terrible not to have a mum."

The girl gave a little nod. "It was, at first. But dad's really great, and it's not like she's really gone. I'll see her again one day."

Allison sighed. "I'd like to believe that, but I'm too practical. I'd be completely devastated if my mum died. I wouldn't have anywhere to go." She glared at the wall. "Well, I suppose I'd live with the Potters, but I wouldn't go willingly. I'd rather live with Aunt and Uncle Dursley."

"Hey Ally," Ginny called, sitting against the wall across the wall, "what were Maurice the Magnificent's last words?"

"'If only there weren't a knife digging into my back'," Allison replied automatically, then turned to look at Ginny disbelievingly. "It's the night before school starts, and you haven't finished your homework?"

"Well, I'm a Gryffindor," the girl grumbled. "Y'know; good at the practicals, bad at theory. You can't expect me to be as studious as you two."

"Well, you're down here enough time. You should have picked up a better attitude from the general atmosphere." She seemed to be debating something, then came to a decision and gestured impatiently. "Come here, and I'll help you. At this rate you'll be writing until eleven, which wouldn't be good for the vow we made."

Ginny stood up and came forward, while Luna blinked. "Vow?" she asked curiously.

Ginny giggled, and plonked herself on the bed next to Allison. "Oh yeah, you weren't there when we decided. Well, Ally and I were talking, and I was telling her that, even if she has a good reason for hating Potter, all that fighting they do isn't really good for a peaceful atmosphere. Well, she got angry at me for a couple of minutes—"

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true. Anyway, after she'd calmed down she saw my point of view, and we came to a decision."

"Yeah," agreed Allison, still looking like she'd had her feathers ruffled. "I promised that tonight I would focus on just having fun, and ignore Potter without getting into a fight — only for one night, mind. And Ginny said that, to make sure I didn't go back on my word, she'd do it too."

"You'll never manage it," Luna stated calmly. "Tilt your head a little back, please?"

"Huh?" The girl twirled around and glared at Luna. "What did you say?"

Big eyes stared intently back at her. "Are you alright, Allison?" said Luna, a little concerned. "You seem to be forgetting quite a few things, lately. I asked you to tilt your head back."

"Not that! You said that I'd never manage to go without arguing with Potter!"

Luna nodded seriously. "You won't. Lean back, please."

"But — oh, never mind." It was useless to argue with someone as logically illogical as Luna. She did as the girl asked, and grabbed Ginny's essay at the same time to look through.

"This is going to be great!" Ginny enthused. "I heard from Lavender Brown that Dumbledore pulled in some favours, and now Golden Amuletare going to play."

"Who are they?" asked Allison absently, eyebrows furrowing as she studied the parchment in front of her.

Ginny's jaw dropped. "You don't know who Golden Amulet are? They're like the best Wizard band in the world!"

"You know," Luna commented absently, "three of the four people in that band were all bitten by werewolves a few years ago, and that's why they're so popular now. Werewolves let out particular pheromones that make you think they sing a lot better than you actually do. Golden Amulet are actually all tone-deaf."

Allison grinned at the outrage painted on Ginny's face. "What about the fourth guy in the band?" she asked Luna. "What happened to him, if he wasn't bitten by the werewolf?"

She looked pensive. "…I'm not sure," she said eventually, tapping the brush against her cheek. "_Quibbler_ didn't say. Maybe…." Her expresssion cleared up. "Oh, I know! He's probably third vocalist and second guitarist; you can never hear them anyway."

Ginny was looking ready to blow up, and Allison just couldn't help herself. It was such a rare time for her to be calm and Ginny to be wound up (of course, usually it was the other way around). "Gin, you spelt 'not' with two ts," she said, waving the pachment in front of the girl's face. "I think you've got a special someone on your mind."

"Gahh!" Ginny shouted, hitting the essay out of Allison's hands. "Shut _up _about Nott! I say one little sentence about how more guys should wear braids, and that it would be pretty funny if I asked him out, then you act like I'm expressing my undying love for him! I don't even _like _the Slytherin, let alone want to do anything like that. And you even told _Ron!_" She was standing up now, face red and hands on hips.

Allison was leaning against the head of the bed, regarding Ginny with wide eyes. "Er…sorry?" she squeaked. "I honestly didn't mean to — well, I was hoping a couple of people would hear, else I wouldn't have been saying it so loud, but I didn't want Ron to hear." She realised who Ginny reminded her of. "Honest, Mrs Weasley, I'm not lying. Please stop glaring at me like that; remember what a great friend to your daughter I am?"

There was a pause, with Allison looking pleading and Ginny murderous. Then Luna, apparently completely oblivious to what had just taken place, exclaimed, "Oh, how could I have forgotten!" and tumbled of the bed to her school-trunk. She began pulling things out of it, muttering, "No — no — where _is _it, I just had it — _here!_" Triumphantly she heaved out a huge, feathery hat in the shape of a sombrero and pulled it on her head, smiling happily at Ginny and Allison. "Dad got it for me when he went to some place in Southern America. It's used in magic rituals to speak to spirits who are out of their bodies for some reason or other."

Allison looked at the hat. It was…garish; that was the only word fit to describe it. She seriously doubted that powerful magical practices were conducted with a hat that had orange, blue, yellow and brown dyed feathers glued to thatched straw.

The hat did have the effect of breaking the tension between the two red-haired girls, however. A reluctant smile graced Ginny's lips. "It really suits you, Luna. Are you going to wear it to the Ball?"

Eyes blinked owlishly at her. "I hadn't thought about it. I imagine so."

"Well then, let me help you choose what else you'll be wearing. You can't let Ally and me have all the fun."

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley," Allison mouthed to Ginny as she passed her.

"You're an idiot, Ally," she replied, but her normal playful smile was back again. Allison sighed in relief; they had narrowly avoided a Weasley-rage, famous in its intensity.

She grabbed Ginny's now-crumpled essay and continued reading through it, giving herself a mental note to tone down the provoking, and not mention Nott at all.

…Well, at least until a week was up. Allison _was _human, after all.

000

**8.20pm**

"Harry! Harry, c'mon out; we're ready to go!" The boy didn't emerge, and Ron groaned. Surely he wasn't _still _worrying over who had appeared at the feast earler.

Lavender tugged at his arm. "Come on, Ron, let's go. I want to dance."

Ron gritted his teeth. Why had he let Lavender be his girlfriend in the first place? Well, the physical stuff was pretty good, but she was nothing but trouble; always wanting him to spend all his time with her, get her expensive presents (which was agitating. He wasn't rich like Harry, for Merlin's sake), and crying almost obsessively. Come to think of it, all the girls he and Harry had gone out with'd had that habit. Maybe they were cursed…

"_Ron? _Ron!"

"Huh?" He started after seeing Lavender's face inches from his own. "Er, yeah?"

"Let's _go. _Golden Amulet will be finished by the time we're there!"

"I can't just leave Harry," Ron protested. "Look, I'll just go and see what he's doing, hey? I'll come straight back—"

His girlfriend gave him a death glare. "Oh no you won't, I know what you're like." She threw her hands in the air dramatically. "Well, stuff you, I'm going down now whether you like it or not. You can meet up with me later. And know this, Ron Weasley: I'm putting our relationship on probation. You don't listen to my needs enough." She flounced away.

Ron looked in the direction she had gone for a few seconds, then shrugged to himself unconcernedly. He walked up the stairs to the Boys Dormitory.

Harry was sitting on his bed, staring intently at the wall with a troubled expression on his face. Ron sighed, not really surprised. He'd expected something like this.

Coming up next to Harry, Ron tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey Harry, you know the Ball's already started, don't you?"

Harry yelled out in surprise and jumped off the bed, twisting around as he did so. He saw Ron, and let out a deep breath. "Ron, don't creep _up _on me like that," he said angrily.

"Whoa, mate, calm down. You must have been really out of it, 'cause I wasn't quiet at all."

"Stop grinning," Harry snapped. "It doesn't make me feel any better."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Only if you stop with the Holier Than Thou attitude and tell me why you're so agitated. Yes, so that injured patient guy in the Hospital Wing is really a Divination teacher. Why is it really so important?"

Harry ground his teeth together. "It's important," he said slowly, "because the facts don't add up. If he's just a normal teacher, why was he hidden in that room where no one would see him?"

"Didn't want the students to get agitated, seeing a guy all messed up," Ron said obviously.

"Maybe, but why was he injured in the first place? He must have been hurt really badly; he looked terrible when we saw him, and that was when Dumbledore said he was almost better." Ron looked at him doubtfully, and Harry glared stubbornly back. "Well, those things might be coincidences, but the strangest thing was what Snape said when he found us. I can pretty much remember it perfectly; 'Only you would have enough dumb luck to find out a secret not even all the Professor's know about'. Now, don't you think that's at least a little bit suspicious?"

"…Well, maybe a little," Ron said reluctantly. "But even if something _is _going on with that Professor Thatcher guy, it doesn't have anything to do with us."

"Maybe not, but still—"

"No Harry, not this time," Ron cut in firmly. "It doesn't involve us, so we shouldn't stick our heads in where they aren't welcome. Can't we spend just one year without having some sort of life-risking adventure?" He shook his head. "If anything, we should be trying to find out why me and Ginny were in that room, not able to remember how we got there."

"Perhaps the two are linked somehow."

"Mate, now you're just trying to justify yourself." He sighed in irritation. "Let's talk about this later, okay? Right now we have a party to get to, and people will start wondering where we are if we're not there soon."

Harry looked vaguely surprised. "It's started?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago."

"I don't even feel like going at the moment. You can leave without me, Ron."

"_What? _Come on Harry, that's just stupid. You were really looking forward to this; got yourself special robes and everything. And what about all those pretty girls fighting for a chance to dance with Minister's Son Harry Potter?

"They'll be just as happy with Quidditch Captain Ron Weasley."

"Harry, you're coming; willingly or unwillingly, whichever you want. And have you forgotten Hannah Abbot, your date? She's an idiot, yeah, but she's popular enough to make trouble for you if you don't show."

Harry gave his friend a dirty look, and there was a stalemate for a few moments. Eventually, "Fine, I'll come. Don't expect me to stay long, though. And you owe me, Ron."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Get your dress robes on and we'll leave."

Harry got changed, and the two boys went out of the Gryffindor common room, the Fat Lady giving them a cheerful wave as they left. Down staircases and past ghosts, they soon came to the Great Hall. A loud blast of music greeted them when Ron opened the door:

"…_feel the hurt inside me, but I can't speak. I want to say something, but I'll just seem weak. I don't know what to do, I'm fading. Fading into this pool of pain and loss…"_

"Merlin," Ron muttered. "I'd forgotten how bloody stupid this band is."

Harry looked up briefly. "The girls seem to like it." Then he went back to looking at the ground, a moody and distracted expression on his face.

"_And every time I look at you, I don't know wha-what to say or do."_

"Somebody save me," the red-head moaned, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him to one of the little circular tables in place. Not looking to see who else was there, he plonked himself in a chair and pulled Harry onto the next one.

He looked out over the sea of tables and students. The whole place was lit with a dim golden light, bringing out the best in everyone. Judging by the ceiling, rain was now bucketing down outside, soft thunder and snippets of lightning predicting that it would soon become even worse. But no one was really noticing the weather; Golden Amulet were singing that stupid angsty song that had made them famous, and a plethora of females had massed in front of them, many dragging their reluctant boyfriends out too. Ron could faintly make out Lavender and Pavrati dancing to the beat at the front of the crowd, and was instantly glad that she had left without him.

The dancing style of the students was…strange, to say the least. Some were doing waltzes or similar formal steps, while others were just nodding their heads up and down, up and down. They seemed a very confused group, Ron thought, if all they were going to do was bop their heads. Perhaps they didn't know any dances, though. He felt sorry for them. They must have been really embarrassed.

"So, you've finally decided that inter-house prejudice is an infantile way to go about things, have you?"

Ron twirled his head around quickly, to see Nott looking at him with an eyebrow raised from the other side of the table; Ron mustn't have noticed him when he sat down.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin vaguely. "Nott, you're a dickhead," he said absently. "Go away or I'll call my father." Predictably, he then went back to trying to find out the meaning of the tablecloth.

"Aww, has poor Harry had a bad night?" Nott said mock-sympathetically.

Ron found himself answering on auto-pilot too. "Go back to your fag friends, Nott. I don't care if you can say big words, because they make you seem even more of a prat than you already are."

He found himself inches from a wand. "Weasley, I honestly don't care if you choose to insult Draco or my vocabulary, but make one more malignant comment about Blaise and you will wish you had been born a squib."

"Oh yeah?" Ron said, drawing him wand. "What if I said she was a brainless slut who —"

"Mr Weasley!"

Ron froze, then slowly turned around. "…Er, hi, Professor McGonagall. I, um, didn't see you there. Gee, isn't the storm really pretty, with it's…er —"

"Mr Weasley, I expected better of you," McGonagall reprimanded, frowning severely. "It is a serious infringement of the school rules to insult someone as you have. Thirty points from Gryffindor, and a detention on Saturday night, seven-thirty sharp." She gave him an equally sharp look, then left to take points off a pack of rowdy Hufflepuffs, too fast for Ron to tell her he already had Detention that day with Snape.

Thoroughly annoyed, Ron shot Nott a look of loathing (the boy just smirked back, making him even angrier), and stood up. "Bye, Harry," he said. "I'm going to go and try to get pissed."

"Have fun," Harry said, obviously not listening.

"Enjoy this Viper's company."

"Sure, sure, yeah."

"I'll try and keep your threesome affair with the Giant Squid and Hagrid a secret."

"Good for you."

A few minutes later, it was Luna who noticed something out of the ordinary. "That's strange," she said to Allison, sipping a drink with interchangeable colours and wearing her huge, garish sombrero hat. "Harry Potter and Theodore Nott are sitting together. Perhaps they've decided to be friends. That would be nice, although I don't think many people would like it much."

Allison looked up immediately. "Merlin, they _are _sitting together! Well, they're not really talking, and Potter looks like he wouldn't notice if Zabini started serenading him, let alone who he's sitting with, but still… And where's Weasley? Those two normally stick like stone."

"Oh, I saw him talking to something in a dark corner," Luna replied serenely. "I suspect he was speaking to a wandering soul; they like to hang around where the hat is, you know." Seemingly not noticing Allison's incredulous expression, she turned back to Harry, and said, "Oh look, and now Hannah Abbot is talking to Harry. I've never really understood why she speaks to him so often if she says such nasty things behind his back — but now she's saying it to his face; that's good, maybe now they'll be nicer to each other…"

Allison snorted into her drink, causing pumpkin juice to spray across her face. Luna looked concerned. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Thanks Luna — yes, I'm fine." She picked up a napkin and used it to wipe her face, then her dress, where a few specks had landed. "How's Ginny going?" she asked, gesturing at the crowd dancing in front of the band.

Luna frowned slightly. "I can't quite see; there's a lot of people over there…would you mind holding this for a moment, Allison?" She passed her drink to the girl, then nimbly hopped up on the table, standing up on her tip-toes and searching the crowd.

"Er," said Allison, hating to sound like a fussy Prefect but not liking the glares people were giving the pair of them, "I don't think you're quite supposed to do —"

"Found her!" Luna said happily. "She's talking to Hermione Granger near the front of the crowd, and they're both nodding their heads a lot. I imagine they have quite a lot in common."

"Er, well…" Allison's mum had explained the muggle form of dancing to Allison quite some time ago — had even taken her to a muggle night-club, where the girl had promptly thrown up from the sheer amount of flashing lights, cigarette smoke, loud music and bodies pressed against her. The reminder of that night still made her shiver sometimes.

But by now Luna had jumped off the table, making hardly more noise than a cat (though honestly, you couldn't hear that much with everyone talking and that stupid band playing. How could Ginny _like _them?). Allison gave her back her drink, and she slurped it through the straw, looking at her friend with big, wide eyes. "I know you don't want to dance, Allison, but would you mind hunting for more wandering souls with me? Or at least for Ronald; he would know where the last one went."

Allison shrugged. "Sure." She had her own suspicions as to where Weasley had gone — the primary one having a lot to do with Pansy Parkinson, Odgen's Firewhiskey and a room that only people who knew the password got into (and it took quite a lot to get that password) — but it would be fun searching for mystical souls with Luna, whose quirky personality was as good as a cheering charm, and without the slight yellow tinge she often turned when she had that spell cast on her.

The two girls walked past the little tables, sometimes calling pleasantries to people they knew. They passed Potter and Nott, and Allison once again found it incredibly strange that the two were sitting together. Both of them seemed relatively unaware of the other, however; Harry was staring at his clean, silver plate as though looking into his own eyes would reveal the secret of immortality, and, though Nott occasionally sent an amused glance in his enemy's direction, he mostly looked moodily out onto the dance floor, muttering, "Draco", then, "philistine", "plebeian", "uncultured praggart", and various other detrimental remarks on Malfoy's intelligence and refinement, or lack thereof.

Allison wondered what must have got the normally calm Slytherin so riled up, then saw what had been stuck on his back and goggled for a few moments, eventually letting out an disgusted giggle. Well, what ever had happened between those two, it seemed that Malfoy was just as angry, if not more so. Maybe he couldn't use the exact vocabulary that Nott could, but he could certainly knew how to effectively embarrass someone.

Back in the crowd of dancers, Ginny was marveling at Hermione's new look. "You really do look good," she said for the fifth time, her voice much louder than usual to be heard over the music.

Hermione's terrified expression had abated a little, and now she only seemed nervous as she smiled weakly at Ginny. "Thanks."

It hadn't been as easy as she thought. The teeth — well, they hadn't been that hard to fix up, even if they did still sting a bit, but the nails — cracked and ugly from incessant biting of them — had taken a bit longer, and the hair had been a monster to get straight. Madam Pomfrey had eventually told her that she just wasn't made for flat hair, and though it was straight then, by the next day it would be back to its normal, bushy self.

When she had got to the Great Hall, however, she had been in for a surprise. She had thought that, with her new look, she would attract a huge amount of attention, and had had to forcefully push down nerves threatening to overwhelm her. But when she reached the Ball, people seemed to notice her _less _than when she looked like a bookworm. Oh, she got a few assessing looks from people, but generally she just seemed to blend in with the crowd, just another dressed up girl. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. On one hand, it meant that she could go out and have fun like everyone else, which _was_ the reason she had done it in the first place. On the other…well, she wouldn't have been mortally offended if a few jaws had dropped with the sight of her…

It was all very confusing, and Hermione couldn't help briefly wishing that she was back in her secret room, curled up in a big chair reading a textbook. Then she remembered…her room wasn't secret anymore, was it? And now the girl felt paranoid and jumpy every time she went back there, because her logical attitude told her there was something seriously wrong about the place. Ron and Ginny hadn't remembered _anything _about getting there, and that brought up a whole lot of possibilities, almost all involving dark magic and outside influences. Which, logically, meant that someone _other than her _must know how to enter her secret haven.

"I didn't know you liked this sort of music."

"Hmm? Er, yeah, I do." Hermione didn't expand, feeling much too embarrassed to admit that she'd had a crush on the lead singer since fifth year.

The two girls bopped their heads for a while, until Ginny said she was starting to get a headache; they then pushed through the crowd to sit at a nearby table.

There was an uncomfortable silence, the kind you get with people you only half know, where you both desperately try and think of something to say that doesn't sound stupid. Ginny drummed her fingers on the table and ordered a drink from the floating menu in front of her, and Hermione bit her lip.

"…So," she said eventually, "how's things been going?" Mentally, she winced. That would have to have been one of the weakest sentences she'd ever uttered. Well, at least she hadn't brought up the "what homework do you have?" line.

"Oh, good, good," Ginny said, scanning the Great Hall — for Luna and Allison, Hermione thought darkly. Well, she wasn't going to tell the girl that she had just seen those two walking around the edges of the Hall. She didn't want to be alone, even if the conversation was stilted and uncomfortable.

Hermione sighed inwardly. She supposed it was too much to hope that a new look would make her know exactly what to do and say, and turn her instantly popular. Well, you could take the girl out of the book…

"_Granger?" _came an incredulous voice to the left. Hermione turned and came face to face with Malfoy, not looking so much impressed at surprised.

She swallowed, feeling embarrassed. "Yes?" she asked, vainly trying to sound aloof.

"What have you _done _to yourself?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Ginny cut ahead of her. "Hermione's allowed to do whatever she wants," she said defensively "What does it matter to you?"

He sneered. "Nothing particularly. I'm simply amused that the mudblood is trying to come out of her textbook shell and become 'popular'." He turned his head from side to side. "Oh, look at that. It doesn't seem to be working very well, does it?"

Hermione's hands curled into fists, while Ginny was glaring daggers at the Slytherin. Blaise Zabini, who was standing next to Malfoy and had been silent so far, was looking at her friend through narrowed eyes.

Hermione finally found her voice. "Say what you will, Malfoy, but never forget that I've got a higher mark in _every single exam_ we've ever taken at Hogwarts."

"Perhaps," replied Malfoy angrily, "but why is that? You have no life, Granger, admit it. All you do every day is go to classes and do homework. I bet you don't even eat; you're like one of those muggle rowboats. You also have not one friend — and Weasley isn't a friend, she only talks to you out of pi — "

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Hermione cried, wand shaking violently in her hand. Malfoy's body parts immediately locked together, and he slowly tipped over.

Hermione and Ginny looked at Zabini quickly, expecting retribution, but the girl just shrugged at them. "He deserved it," she said. "Draco and Theo are having a fight at the moment, and Draco's hissing at everyone. Of course someone would hiss back eventually."

"Er, okay…" Hermione said warily.

Zabini bent down and hoisted Malfoy up, whose eyes were darting rapidly to each person. "I'll have a talk with him," she said brightly. "Let him know that it's not a good idea to provoke someone who could kick his arse. Later, Granger, Weasley." She turned to go. "Oh and by the way," she flashed a mischievous grin at Hermione, "Draco didn't tell you because he was being a petty bastard and doesn't notice that sort of stuff, but you really do look great."

"…She's too nice to be a Slytherin," Ginny said eventually when Blaise was out of hearing.

Hermione nodded.

Draco wouldn't have agreed with that statement a few minutes later, when Blaise had pushed him into a corner of the Hall and was scowling at him fiercely. He probably would have tried to run away if he hadn't still been frozen.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Blaise said, shaking her head. "I never thought the day would come when I'd have to tell you this, but honestly, the way you've been acting tonight reminds me of first and second year."

He tried to glare at her, and Blaise smirked at his inability to do so, then continued. "Do you remember what you were like then? I sure do. You were a whiny, stuck up brat, and the only things you cared about were power and prestige. Me and Theo _hated _you back then, you know; hated you only a little less than you hate Potter. Then, well…y'know, with your mum…" she waved an arm vaguely, "and you got a lot better. Unfortunately, you seem to re, reg, regrees — oh, stop sniggering; yes I can see you are even if you're not moving — _regress _back to those earlier years whenever you get annoyed. And that doesn't really make me like you very much at the moment." She pulled out her wand. "Honestly, the argument you and Theo are having is stupid. You've totally blown it out of pro, propo, proportion. So you both gave Pansy money to annoy the other. So what? I did it too, and I don't see you flying at _my _throat. _Finite Incantatem. _So, Draco, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy staggered and fell to the ground, not expecting to be let out of the full-body bind so quickly. Looking up, he saw Blaise staring at him with her arms crossed, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"Well, you're a girl, aren't you?" he muttered, climbing up. "And you're a lot more vicious than Nott, too. I happen to have some regard for my health." He couldn't help feeling a little ashamed at himself, however. Oh, not because of the fight with his friend; Theodore definitely deserved what he'd received for making Draco lose the bet, then run around telling passing people that _no, _he wasn't secretly a Gryffindor. But he hadn't acted his old superior, I Am So Much Better Than You Will Ever Be And You Had Better Know That self for a long while (except to Potter and Weasley, but they didn't count). It was a little disconcerting to see all the ill feeling he caused.

He realised that Blaise still hadn't put her wand away, and eyed it warily. "Er, I'm sorry?"

"Well, I'd be happier if you told Granger that, but," she laughed at his horrified expression, "you'd probably rather kill yourself than say sorry to a mudblood, so I'll leave it be."

"Thank Salazar." Draco looked "Now, Blaise, if you agree not to curse me, there's something I did in retribution to Theodore that I think you'll find interesting …"

The hours passed; quickly for some, excruciatingly long for others. Harry eventually got up from the seat, but didn't really do more much more than wander aimlessly around, giving monosyllabic answers to anyone wanting to talk to him. Ron had indeed found the place where Pansy was handing out the heavier alcohol, and alternated between drinking himself into a stupor and trying to pick fights with the Slytherins. Ginny and Hermione met up with Allison and Luna, and they continued to walk around talking to people (Ginny insisted that Hermione stay with them, but, though both Luna and Allison agreed, the girl couldn't help feeling that she wasn't really welcome).

Theodore was growing increasingly confused at to why everyone started giggling whenever they saw him, and Blaise, after laughing her head off for the best part of half an hour, eventually took pity on him. When the aristocratic boy realised he had such a disgusting and demeaning sign pinned to his back, he was silent for a few moments, and then the information sank in and he had a shouting match with Draco, involving inbreeding and eventually leading to an "uncouth, but effective" muggle brawl. They both received black eyes and split lips, but McGonagall and Sprout saw the circle of people that had gathered around the two, and arrived before more serious injuries could be conveyed. After penalties had been given out (fourty points off each, and detention with Filch every Saturday of September) Theo sat with a very disapproving Blaise, and Draco went off to Pansy's room to try and get drunk (he succeeded. He and Ron got so plastered that they hugged and declared brotherly love to the other. It is lucky that neither remembered it the day after, or they would likely _Avada Kedavra _each other).

At just before three in the morning, an exhausted and angry Minerva knocked on the door to Snape's chambers.

"Enter," he called, sounding annoyed at being interrupted. She pushed open the door to see Severus glance briefly at her, before going back to the book lying on the table, surrounded by piles of parchment that he feverishly wrote notes on. "Yes, Minerva?" he said, not looking up.

She took a few steps forward, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "Severus, _why didn't you come to the Great Hall to keep the children from killing each other?_"

His brow creased. "Why would they be in the Hall at this time of nigh…oh." A slight flush coloured his cheeks.

"Yes, _oh," _Minerva said scathingly. "We gave everyone a roster at breakfast yesterday — I saw you take one, so you can't use that excuse. How could you have _forgotten _about the Ball?"

"Well, Tobias found this Potions book in a trunk of Partridge's old things, and it really is quite interesting," Snape defended himself.

McGonagall looked at him in disbelief. "A book. You forgot due to a _book._"

"Not just any book. It's — but that's not the point. I'm sure other people were absent."

Minerva slowly shook her head. "Sirius and Remus came. Yvonne and Filius came. Lily came. Dumbledore stayed for half an hour. Even _Zabini _showed up." Snape winced. "You are the only one who wasn't there, and the lack of supervision at your designated time really showed."

"Well, it can't have been _too _bad," Severus said, in the tone of one who knows that Minerva doesn't lie about those things.

"This was on Theodore Nott's back, put there, apparently, by Draco Malfoy," McGonagall said, holding up a half-tattered piece of parchment. Snape could only just make out what it said:

_I-WILL-POO _

_the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation_

_Has Not Gripped Me! _

"Oh my," Snape said softly. "And did Theodore —"

"When he found out about it he had a muggle brawl with Malfoy," Minerva said matter-of-factly.

Snape winced. "That would have attracted quite a crowd."

"Yes, but that isn't all. Luna Lovegood went up to that band that was playing and started talking to them about something — werewolves, or tone-deafness, or something similar — and they started to get annoyed at her. Then Ginerva went to bring her back, and between them, they accidentally knocked over all the music equipment on the stage. That's over three-hundred Galleons we have to pay! Not to mention that we keep discovering drunken students all over the place, and I have no idea how they could have turned that way. The house-elves were specifically ordered _not _to put alcohol in any of the drinks."

"Minerva, I am…sorry," Snape choked out — it was always incredibly hard for him to apologise to anyone, even someone who had once been his teacher. "It wasn't my intention to back out from responsibility."

"Yes…well, let's not have a repeat performance of tonight any time soon, or I'll lose what's left of my dark hair."

Snape's eyes kept flickering back to his Potion book, as though wanting nothing more than to go back to deciphering it. "Sit a moment, Minerva; you're exhausted, and it's the least I can do." He gestured vaguely at his couch at the side of the room.

McGonagall would have refused if she were not so tired. "A great way to start the school year," she sighed, not so much sitting as falling onto Snape's couch. "I have a feeling that this wasn't one of Albus' better ideas. Severus, what do you think —"

But Snape had already gone back to reading the book, seeming unable to focus on anything else. Minerva couldn't help half-smiling; even now, Snape wasn't all that different from the curious, bright-eyed boy he'd been as a first-year.

She yawned, closing her eyes. _Just for a moment, _she told herself. _I'll get up…in a minute… Merlin, this couch is soft._

She was fast asleep before Severus had turned his next page.

000

Sorry if the ending was a bit rushed, but I really wanted to finish this chapter tonight. Anyway, I think it's a fair assumption to say that if I continue with long chapters (7 to 10 000 words long), they're always going to come out later than the shorter chapters (3 to 4000 words) previously have. Sorry people, but I can't really help it.

Concerning HBP (if you haven't yet read it, what the hell are you doing still looking at the _Author's Notes _of this?), I don't think I'm really going to inject any of it into Æternus, except for perhaps various little quotes (if you didn't understand the note that was on Theo's back, you obviously haven't read chap. 6 of HBP well enough yet) and _maybe _some of the stuff Jo's written about souls and Horcruxes (though I make no promises about this; I need to see if it will fit with my plans and plots about the same thing). I am not changing Snape's character (or Remus', for that matter), because it would interfere too much with the plot (and I'm lazy). Blaise is going to stay a girl here, too; I've grown rather fond of her the way she is.

**Next chapter: **Tobias' first day of classes! Also, Snape has to adjust to teaching with Carson Zabini "helping out". It will be…about this length, I am thinking.


	15. Chapter 12

You might be a little annoyed when I tell you I haven't got to the actual classes yet, but I do have a reason: I had a bit of a plot bunny involving the Vipers. This chapter is a bit shorter than the recent chapters, and for that, I apologise; but it would have got boring if I'd stretched it out (and I had an idea for a post HBP novella, which was another reason I wasn't as quick as I should have been).

Also, I've decided that I'm not really going to put any of HBP into this. It would just be too confusing, with people wondering what I'd put in and what I'd leave out.

Anyway, enjoy.

**Æternus Praestolatio**

**Chapter 12**

I always wake up early these days. It's a habit so deeply ingrained on my brain that it would be impossible to stop, even if I might want it to.

Today it was just before dawn that my eyes slitted open. I wasn't disorientated, and I didn't for a moment think that I was back in my old cot at the Viper base. I did, however, give a little sardonic grin at the rather unusual circumstance I found myself in. I'd been dragged into an Alternate Reality where people had hailed me as their Redee — savior, discovered what would have become of the world if Trelawney had carked it before telling my Prophecy, met my parents, had a couple of confrontations with Remus, met _myself, _gone on a stealth mission in the Ministry and seen a little of what the Vipers here were like, and was now about to have my first day being a Professor. Of Divination, no less. And I wasn't optimistic enough to think that I was even _close_ to discovering all the secrets and differences here.

_Good morning, brother, _Wolf said, lazily opening a mental eye.

_Hey, _I replied. _Feel up to a day of teaching?_

_I suppose. It will be interesting to see if they know anything worthwhile. _

_And to see how the other me — not you, the other _other _me — reacts. What do you think of him, by the way? I don't think I've asked you yet._

Wolf thought for a moment. _I'm…not quite sure. I've only seen him once, you know. But, he seems a little…eh, it's hard to explain. More naïve. A lot less scarred, mentally and physically. He's still a cub. You never really were._

_He reminds me of the way I was in sixth year, _I said, _though not quite as bad._

He half-shrugged. _I wouldn't know, would I? I was only half aware back then. But he does seem arrogant, if that's what you mean. _He nudged me with his muzzle. _Now, are you going to get ready, or are you having too much fun talking about yourself?_

_Ha ha, _I said. _You're spending too much time around humans, brother._

_Well, I don't have much of a choice, _he grumbled. _And you may not know it, but you've gained quite a few characteristics from me. They're just a little harder to notice than mine. _

_Sure. _Slipping out of the four-poster bed and leaving the conversation for later, I grabbed my clothes from the cupboard and, yawning, padded into the adjoining bathroom. Wincing at the coldness of the tiles, I hopped into the shower and spent an inordinate amount of time just looking up, letting the water wash down my face and slowly waking up. Long showers — showers at all, if fact — were a luxury I hadn't had for _years, _and I wanted to savour the feeling of being completely clean.

After the wash, I pulled on my normal clothes and rubbed the water out of my hair with a towel, casting a spell that mimicked a hair-dryer to get the last of the dampness out. Then I tied my hair into a low ponytail, brushed my teeth, shaved (wincing when the razor nicked the bottom of my scar — it was always doing that, bloody thing), and went back to the bedroom to look out the tower window. The looming storm from yesterday had passed in the night, and the morning promised to be a nice day, if a little cold.

I then took a short walk to the classroom — _my _classroom, I reminded myself — to make sure everything was in order. The Divination classroom was a lot different now than it had been when I was a student, a change I definitely thought was for the better. The blinds had been drawn back and the windows opened slightly, letting fresh air in. Gone were the circular tables crammed inside, the dim red light, the blazing fire; instead there was a long, thin table curved in a semicircle around the edge of the room, with the rest of the space bare. The shelves had been cleaned, the various objects on them straightened from their previous rabble. There were more additions placed on them, too: many more books, as well as miscellaneous muggle objects and a few rather obscure magical ones.

I nodded, satisfied, and made a mental note to give Bibby — the house-elf I had given the instructions to — a couple of Galleons for her help. I would have liked to give her more, but the poor thing would probably have a seizure (not to mention that I didn't have very much money to give away in the first place).

I couldn't help feeling a flash of guilt about Dobby, who was surely still at the Malfoys' in this reality. Oh, I knew it was hardly my fault, but I seemed to have a habit of feeling bad about things I couldn't possibly fix up.

Then I nimbly climbed down the ladder, waved my wand in its vague direction to get it to close up again, and headed down to the staff room (at only just after half past seven, it was far too early for anyone to be in the Great Hall). I'd been introduced to the ghosts and paintings yesterday, so I wasn't as self-conscious about walking through the halls as I had been. I even stopped for a lengthy conversation with Sir Cadogan, who was being his normal arrogant, sword-wielding self.

I'd expected the staff room to be pretty much the same as when I'd last seen it, and wasn't wrong. The only thing different was that the chairs looked a little more comfortable than they had been, but I certainly wasn't going to begrudge that.

The only person in the room when I came in was Remus, who was sitting on the main table, sipping what looked like coffee whilst reading the timetable. He looked up when I opened the door, and acknowledged me tiredly. "Morning, Tobias."

"Hello Remus," I replied, sitting opposite him and blinking as, as soon as I wistfully thought of tea, it appeared. I poked the pot. "Er, is this okay to drink?"

He looked up briefly and nodded. "It should be, unless you've made an enemy of a house-elf recently. Oh, and by the way, _accio." _A piece of paper flew from the pile at the end of the table and into Remus' hand. He offered it to me. "Here, have a timetable."

"Thanks." I took the paper and looked at it, an eyebrow raised. I had two classes today: Gryffindor/Slytherin third years and Gryffindor/Ravenclaw sixth years. I'd be meeting Ginny and Luna, then. I didn't know whether to be looking forward to or dreading the encounter. "What's with the double classes?" I asked.

"Well, Loreal Partridge wasn't quite the most loved teacher in Hogwarts," Remus replied, "and the students didn't know that he wouldn't be coming back this year. His methods were a little…obscure."

I grinned. "Yes, Severus told me about it. He didn't know the difference between green and blue, so what was supposed to foreshadow a great year for nature was interpreted as a tsunami."

Remus gave a wistful smile. "I remember that. It wasn't all that bad, really. House-elves were around to make sure we didn't run out of food, the ghosts and paintings were most helpful, and Sirius certainly livened up the whole experience. I daresay Severus would have told a different story, however: he doesn't appreciate people coming into the 'Slytherin' area."

"No doubt." I fought to suppress a snort, imagining Severus flying bat-like from one intruder to the next, snarling and taking off points at first, and in the end leaning in the shadows, sulking. The picture would have seemed slightly out of character for the Snape of my world, but in this one it fitted perfectly.

We sat silently for a while, drinking our respective beverages. It was painfully obvious (to me, at least) that Remus wasn't exactly comfortable around me. I didn't particularly blame him — it wasn't every day that you meet someone from another universe, plus, he saw me kill someone and break down right in front of him _twice_ — but it still stung a little.

Uncomfortable myself, now, I searched for something to say. "What was the party like, last night?"

"Tiring," Remus replied, rubbing his eyes. "I was on the twelve to one-thirty shift with Lily, and she was right to be nervous about the whole thing. If we weren't giving detentions to drunken students and looking for the person behind all of that, we were trying to stop Mr Malfoy and Mr Nott from causing each other irreparable damage, and watching, horrified, as Miss Lovegood broke priceless musical equipment."

I couldn't stop the grin. "That sounds about right for that sort of party. What was the music like?"

"Terrible."

"Typical."

He gave me a shrewd glance. "And how would you know about customs here, Tobias?"

Mentally I punched myself. Remus was _smart, _and he actually Thought about things (contrary to popular opinion, most people don't actually Think; they just appear to. Note the capital T. That signifies thinking something a little deeper than "I'm hungry" and "all Vipers are evil"). It wasn't exactly a brilliant idea to give away information about myself in front of him, no matter how much of a father he had been to me in my old world.

I shrugged, being _very _careful now. "Well, do you honestly think it's that different where I come from? I think it's fairly obvious that I'm human — my teeth aren't pointed, I don't grow wings at night, and I don't spontaneously blow up things. Places and people might change, but human nature rarely does." There. Hopefully he would make assumptions based on that, and forget that I hadn't actually answered his question.

But of course, this was Remus, who, once he got hold of the proverbial bone, didn't often let go. He leaned down over the table, and looked me straight in the eyes. I had a hard time reassuring myself that he didn't know Legilimency, and even if he did, I could easily ward against it. "Tobias Thatcher," he said slowly, "there is an incredible amount of information you haven't told us. I'm —"

"Ah, what a _beautiful _morning this is! Hallo, Remus, Tobias! What a _spiffing _day it will be!" Matthew Zabini strode in, wearing what seemed to be his normal garish clothing. I gave a little sigh of relief. The interrogation would be postponed for the moment.

Soon after Matthew, the other staff began to drift into the room. Sinistra and Sprout both gave me relatively cheerful waves before continuing their animated discussion, and the Ancient Runes teacher — Lance Mancefield, I think his name was — had quite an interesting conversation with me about Filch's incredible list of banned objects, making me turn nostalgic.

A harassed Minerva entered, shepherding an equally harassed looking Severus, who's fingers were twitching every few seconds. "An hour or so more wouldn't have caused the destruction of Britain, McGonagall," he snapped, eyes flickering from side to side. "And I have no doubt that the students would rejoice not seeing me at the breakfast table."

"That as it may be, Severus, but if I left you with that book alone I have a suspicion you would have locked yourself in a dungeon room no one can find any more and not come out until you'd finished it."

He growled (whilst I noticed that he hadn't disagreed, and grinned), and roved his eyes over the room, not noticing me. "Where's Lily?" he said shortly.

McGonagall looked like she was just refraining from rolling her eyes. "I imagine she went straight to the Great Hall with Sirius. There," she pointed, "sit next to Mr — apologies, _Professor _Thatcher, and I'll get you a timetable." She pushed him slightly in my direction. "Merlin, one would think it were _you _who had been out in the Hall, working overtime to make sure the students didn't kill each other."

"I was involved in more important matters," Snape said loftily.

"Oh, so trying to decipher an illiterate's meagher attempts at literature is more important than keeping safe our charges, whom we are sworn to protect? I'll have to rearrange my priorities, then." She grinned in triumph when he couldn't think of a come-back, and my respect for the Deputy Headmaster rose a few notches. "One point to me, I think. Sit, Severus."

"You keep a tally?" I asked him when he was seated next to me.

He frowned at me, looking slightly confused. "Who are…oh, hello, Tobias."

"Nice to know I can be forgotten so easily," I said, handing him a timetable.

He glared at me. "Just — just…just be quiet, okay?"

"Your normal eloquence seems to have left you today," I noted.

His glare deepened. "I hardly think that this is the occasion to talk of such things, especially as I have just passed the last night analyzing the memoirs of one of the most barbaric figures I have ever had the displeasure to encounter," he said, deliberately articulating his words.

I raised my brows at him. "Amadeus is barbaric, is he? Why are you anxious to read his works, then? And it's not a memoir; it's a textbook."

"It may as well be," Snape grumbled. "His potions are near impossible to decipher; he keeps changing the subject and whining about his life. Still…it _is _an interesting read." His fingers twitched again.

Judging it late enough to go to the Great Hall, Severus and I headed over there (though the Potions Master kept glancing in the direction of his dungeons, as though wanting nothing more than to go back there and read). "Look," I finally told him, exasperated, "I know this might be impossible, but just try to _forget _about the book for the moment. You've got more important things to worry about, such as Matthew Zabini being your assistant — I bet you'd forgotten that. It's not going to make anything go faster if you keep thinking about it."

_He's not going to listen to you, brother. Humans rarely heed common sense._

_Oh, and wolves do?_

_Certainly. You don't see us trying to kill things for reasons other than to eat them, do you?_

…_You've got a point._

The Great Hall wasn't full when we entered, but it was getting there. Like McGonagall had assumed, the teachers who hadn't been in the staff room were now at the head table, eating breakfast. Severus sat next to Lily, and, waving to a cheerful Hagrid, I slipped into the chair beside him.

Greetings were exchanged, and I then watched in amusement as Lily berated Severus for not going to the Ball yesterday. I was thoroughly glad that I had an excuse for not going (I "didn't know the students or the castle" well enough to be any use, of course). Through her half shouting, Sirius (who was sitting on the other side of her) leaned back. "Hey, Tobias."

"Hmm?" I pushed my chair back so I could see him better.

"Well, erm," he scratched his nose nervously, "er, I'm…I'm sorry."

I blinked; that was unexpected. Why did he feel like he needed to apologise? Sirius hadn't done anything to me… Actually, he had. I remembered the time when he and Remus had come up to my room, and Sirius had practically goaded me into breaking down.

"_Oh, for —" Sirius growled loudly. "Just talk, Thatcher."_

_"Stop postponing the discussion!"_ _Sirius roared, standing up._ _"Get on with it!_ _Tell us about your life!"_

I shrugged at him. "You don't need to apologise. It's my fault, really."

He looked back at me incredulously. "How is it your fault? _You _didn't do anything."

"But I did," I protested truthfully. "I allowed myself to get riled up. I should have been in better control of myself."

Sirius shook his head in amazement. "You must have had some pretty intense training back in your — in Australia," he corrected hastily.

"Yes, I did." Wanting to get away from that line of questioning, I brought up something we could both relate to. "What classes do you have today?"

For a while we discussed school criteria, various students, and the woes of having to get up early (that was mostly Sirius, though).

"Did you do much teaching, before?" was his last question.

I considered what to say, and decided the truth wouldn't be irreparably damaging. "I did a bit. Not to children, though. The youngest would have been in their late teens." _And hardly children, after all that had happened to them._

Sirius grinned wickedly, then; the kind he must have been infamous for as a Marauder. "You'll be in for a bit of a surprise, then. Don't worry; I'll make sure your funeral is nice n' proper."

I raised an eyebrow, thinking of the students I'd had: some staring blankly, straight ahead; others glaring daggers at me and barely restraining themselves from casting an unforgivable; yet more refusing to come to the training at all, and wounding me with words and fists when I (and sometimes Snape) had come to get them. But those were the ones I _liked. _There were others who _scared _me: coming to every lesson, listening attentively , asking me extra questions after everyone had gone away, _anticipating _the next class. _Smiling _through the practicals.

Yes, I much preferred the ones who cursed me. The sight of Kerosene lighting an old Death Eater on fire and grinning while he screamed, while only one person in a class of twelve looked disgusted, was something I hadn't week able to get out of my head for weeks after.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle a couple of kids," I said.

Sirius looked at me doubtfully. "Sure. I'll keep the casket on hand, just in case." He cast his gaze over the Hall, and his face lit up. "Oi, Moony! Get'cha arse over here!"

000

Tonks never felt comfortable in the main chambers, the "Throne Rooms", of the Viper's Poison. She could always feel eyes looking at her: behind portraits; through cracks in the wall; looking down through the one-way glass of the roof; under invisibility cloaks or disillusion charms. It strained on her nerves, which made her jumpy, which made her knock even more things over.

It was lucky that this time she was part of a group, or she would probably be once again standing in front of Jayden, blushing furiously while holding a broken crystal vase (and hadn't _that _little experience been embarrassing...). No, this time she was with about ten other people, and one in particular was keeping her calm.

"You've been here before, lass; and you've been through a lot worse than this. Get yourself together."

Tonks smiled at Tezz, the person she thought of as a sort of grizzly uncle. "Oh, I'm fine. I think you're just trying to reassure _yourself_, Tezz."

He growled. "Sure, Nymph. Keep telling yourself that."

They came to the big, dark red door, and the masked guard checked each of their identification marks carefully before letting them through. Tonks fought the urge to stick her tongue out at the guy — all that seriousness couldn't be good for him, surely — but she doubted he'd find it as amusing as she did.

Once inside the room, Tonks blinked in surprise: it must be a pretty important meeting they were about to have, then, because there was almost a full council. Standing behind the large round table were Ecila, Jayden, Lucius and Bellatrix, with Grabbe and Goyle acting as the visible guards on either sides of them. And Tonks would bet old Shooting Star that Snake was lurking in the shadows somewhere, noticing everything whilst making sure no one noticed him.

The group of Vipers filed in, and uncomfortably bowed, nodded, curtsied, or just stood there, in front of the leaders (none of them had ever said what, if any, sort of respect that was to be payed to them, so there was always a bit of confusion about that aspect).

There was a little silence, then Ecila said calmly, "I'm sure you all know why we've brought you here. The Ministry of Magic affair, a few nights ago."

Some people shuffled around nervously, Tonks included. That job hadn't exactly been a _failure, _but it sure wasn't a success.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why exactly you were sent there," she continued, and was shot a warning glance by her colleagues, while Tonks and the others looked up in interest, "and you're going to keep wondering."

There were a few sighs of disappointment, but Tonks didn't notice them because her mind was back at the Ministry of Magic, reliving one very strange moment in particular.

_He turns and looks up at her, and she freezes in fear. She's toast, now, isn't she — he's already killed Pat, and won't hesitate to do the same to her. What's it like to die, she wonders. Surely there'll only be pain for a second, then she'll go…wherever people go to after life. Perhaps she can be a ghost — it will mean that she can perhaps stop Hazel from being killed. Wait; ghosts can't touch anything, can they? Perhaps she can be a poltergeist, then… _

_The man then grins at her, gives the Viper sign for "friend", and walks away. Tonks stares in amazement for a few seconds, before her survival instinct kicks in — yes; surprisingly, she _has_ got survival skills when there is the need — and rushes to wake all the unconscious Vipers up before those five-hundred soldiers come thundering along._

Ecila gave the whole group a kind smile. "A lot of you did really well, and I want to thank you for that." She turned so she was looking at the person on her left side. "Lucius? Your turn."

He tipped his hat to her. "Indeed, Lady." Turning to Tonks, Tezz and the others, his voice lost its respectful quality, and took on a slight drawl. "We have achieved the main objective of the Ministry venture, and that is to be applauded. However, there were certain…_inconsistencies…_in the reports we have received. Some of you are claiming that there were a great amount of enemy soldiers — accounts, as I have said, differ, and the numbers ranged from three hundred to three-thousand — that charged our Vipers; apparently massacring everything in sight, though there have been very few deaths recorded in the Book. Others say there were no soldiers at all, just a little fox running around and causing mischief. We _do _know, though, that there was some form of battle." He gestured to his colleagues. "Wehave some idea on what may have happened, but now we would like to hear your version of the events. I trust that, in this room, you will tell only the unvarnished truth."

Bellatrix showed her frightening smile to everyone, causing Tonks to shiver slightly. "That's right. If you do lie, you won't stay alive long enough to regret it."

Each of the Vipers then went through their version of events, trying hard to be as truthful as possible. It soon became apparent to Tonks why they had chosen the particular Vipers they did: each either had their assignments on different levels of the Ministry, or were useful in unique ways. It was fairly obvious to Tonks that she'd been picked because she could change her shape and do weird things like changing her nose into a pig's.

Sometimes it just sucked to be a metamorphmagus. After all, getting attention wasn't necessarily a good thing, especially when the people you were noticed by held your life in their hands.

Tuning back in when Tezz started speaking, Tonks listened to him telling the tale of going on a merry chase after some people whom the sleeping spell hadn't affected. There had been one confrontation in which Kerosene was stunned by someone who was actively hostile, who had then tried to cast a fifth degree slashing curse on him (Tonks had her own opinion on those so-called "light" curses, opinions that involved the words "bull" and "shit"). Luckily, Tezz managed to deflect the curse, which then brought about a short battle. Obviously the Viper hadn't stood a chance against four wizards and wizards, no matter how skillful he was. In the end he had been stunned.

"It's really surprising," he said. "I thought it would be the end of me. But then, I'm pretty sure I heard some more Vipers coming along the corridor just as I was _stupefied, _so they must have provided a distraction."

They came to Tonks, and she uncomfortably related her tale about going with Hazel and the rest of the group up the levels of the Ministry, eventually hearing the alarm that signaled intruders

"Well, Hazel raced ahead — she said something about having some great plan — and by the time we reached the place she was knocked out, and the enemy were waiting for us. So, we fought a bit —"

"Did you recognise anyone?" Jayden interrupted, keeping his gaze locked on the ground.

"Not really," Tonks replied shiftily, never really able to hide her emotions.

Jayden looked up then, and Tonks shivered. "Not really?" he said quietly.

Anyone meeting Jayden for the first time — out of a battleground — wouldn't have thought him intimidating at all. He was younger than Tonks, and was slightly pudgy, with a round face that looked like it wanted to be friendly and open but was holding back through sheer force of will. He didn't often say much at meetings, and when he did it was usually soft, sometimes even stuttering when he was particularly agitated or upset.

However, when you looked in his eyes you remembered what it was like to be in a battle with him: when he could phase out everything around him and just _kill; _when he worked by his own strange code of justice that no one could ever figure out; when he was capable of cutting down Vipers as easily as Aurors. There was no doubt that he was the best Commander to have with you at the front lines, and that was precisely _because _of those reasons. The enemy often had no idea what the hell was happening, giving the Viper's Poison a huge advantage. Still…he spooked Tonks out. She was absolutely certain that, had he grown up in different circumstances and not had Ecila as a mother, Jayden would be a perfectly nice young man, though perhaps a bit nervous about some things.

Tonks decided that the time for not-so-subtle evasion techniques was up. "Well, the light wasn't very good, but I think I _might _have seen Sirius Black." She had definitely heard him. Why oh why couldn't he have learnt that it _wasn't_ a smart thing to shout out "no one tangles with the world-famous Sirius Black" where any spies could hear him?

Bellatrix immediately growled. "Ah, my dear Auror cousin, you once again stick your ugly face into places it isn't wanted." She looked at Tonks and narrowed her eyes. "Little niece, why do you still attempt to keep that blood-traitor safe? Do you, perhaps…still hold allegiances with the enemy?" Light flickered in her eyes, making her seem even more mentally unstable than usual.

"Of course not," Tonks said hastily, telling the truth (well, she would have to have a death wish not to, in that particular room).

"Then why were you trying to protect him?" Bellatrix took a fierce step forward, but was restrained by Ecila's hand on her shoulder. "What?" she asked her, annoyed.

"Save this argument for later, if you wouldn't mind," Ecila said calmly. "The girl still has the rest of her report to relate." She looked at Tonks expectantly. "Nymph? If you would be so kind…"

Casting a nervous glance at Bellatrix, Tonks continued talking about the night at the Ministry of Magic. She had originally been battling a red-haired lady — it had been too dark to make out any other features — and was quite obviously losing the duel. Luckily, the lady was distracted when the person Tonks was almost certain was Sirius got hit with a hex, and Tonks was able to slip away before she gained any real injuries. In the shadows she had glanced up just in time to see that freaky guy killing Pat (the Commanders all glanced at each other meaningfully when she told them that, a look that seemed to convey some silent conversation). Then the intruder alarm had gone off, causing most of the not yet unconscious Vipers to run away.

"Well, the people we were dueling talked a bit, then walked away. That guy who killed Pat was about to go with them, too…but then he seemed to hear me, and he turned around and saw me."

"What did he look like?" asked Ecila.

"Well, like I said, it was dark, so I couldn't make out much. But he definitely had very bright, green eyes." She paused, waiting for more questions, and continued when none came. "Anyway, we just _looked _at each other for a few seconds, then he…he grinned at me, made the four-fingered 'friend' sign," she subconsciously made the gesture with her own hand, "and walked away."

When Tonks told the Commanders that, she hadn't thought they'd be very surprised with her information. Surely they'd know that guy; chances were that they'd probably hired him as a spy. She sure hadn't expected Bellatrix to gasp, Jayden to look incredibly confused, and Lucius' and Ecila's eyes to widen considerably.

There was silence for a long moment, then Ecila said, "Well, that's a bit unexpected," once again perfectly calm. She smiled at Tonks. "Thank you for that, Nymph. It's very informative." And, to the group at large, "You are dismissed. You have our thanks; you've made things considerably clearer."

The doors slid open, and the Vipers started leaving. Tonks followed Tezz, and turned right outside the door to see the leaders talking to each other. Curious as ever, she slowed her walking and strained her ears to hear the conversation, and caught one last line from Lucius before the door shut firmly:

"You can come out now, Snake. Well well well, there seem to be a few things you haven't told us about the Redeemer…"

"Well then, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Tezz said as they came out of the Throne Room chambers. "No one died, anyway. That's pretty good for a meeting with Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I got close, though," Tonks commented. "I'll try not to meet her alone in a dark alley for the next few weeks. Even if we're related, that doesn't guarantee safety." She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and said casually, "Hey Tezz, do you know anyone who calls him or herself 'Redeemer'?"

He looked at her, slightly curious. "No. Why? You going to start calling yourself that, now?" He snorted.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, it would stop you from calling me 'lass', anyway. No, I was just…curious. Anyway, see you later; I'm going to talk to Hazel now. Miss Graham says she'll give me ten Galleons if I stop her from running off before she's properly healed."

Tezz quirked an eyebrow. "Why is she in the infirmary? I thought she was just _stupefied."_

"She was," Tonks agreed. "But you know when that noise went off to signal all those enemy soldiers, and everyone ran away? Well, she was…a little trampled in the process."

He winced. "Ouch. That would have hurt. I'll leave you then, lassie Redeemer. Chin up."

"Always," she replied with a grin. Those lines were a sort of tradition between them by now.

She turned and walked off, heading in the direction of the infirmary. Her curiosity had been unleashed, and now she had a goal for herself. She would find out who this "Redeemer" person was, and why he was important.

000

Yay, and another chapter is finished! Hopefully this has made you think a bit, and made you a little curious about what is going to happen. Feel free to review; I rather like those things.

By the way, Tonks _is _Bellatrix's niece, right? I'd hate to think I made yet another mistake.


	16. Chapter 13

Quite a long chapter this time, which may or may not make up for the utterly shameful time it took for it to come out. I don't really have an excuse; I probably _could _have got the chapter out much earlier, but I just didn't feel like writing at all, especially as I'd discovered DeviantArt and got into drawing a lot more. Please except my sincere apologies, especially to the people that have been with the fic from the very beginning, and have reviewed every chapter (you guys rock, by the way. Go you). I most definitely have _not _abandoned this fic, but…please don't have high expectations with update dates. Ultimately, I'm writing this for myself to get better at writing, and if I'm not enjoying writing the fic I _will _slow down.

**Chapter 13**

" —And you simply place the…_Severus, _what do you call the light green goo in the ucky grey bottle? I seem to have — heh — seem to have forgotten what it's called!"

Snape resisted the urge to strangle the infuriating man, settling instead for clenching his hands so hard they turned white and imagining the myriad ways he could end Zabini's life, preferably using methods that involved intense humiliation. "Jarbees' essence,"he ground out.

"Ah, of course! Now, students, you place the essence into the cauldron and stir five times clockwis —"

"_Anti_clockwise," Snape interrupted snidely. "Stirring _clockwise _would cause the potion to become a volatile, highly poisonous substance." There was a snort of disbelief from the corner of the room, and Severus said offhandedly, "Five points from Gryffindor for speaking when you're not supposed to be, Potter. I suppose _you _would like to test the results of…_Professor…_Zabini's concoction?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's no need for that," said Zabini cheerfully. "Everyone makes a boo-boo once in a while, and I _am _human, after all. Isn't that right, Severus?" Snape didn't get a chance to answer. "Now, for the next step I will need a volunteer. Perhaps _you _would like to step up, Miss Zabini?"

Blaise smiled up at her big brother. "Sure, Professor Zabini." She stood up and went to the front.

Snape watched the subsequent steps with the barely concealed anxiety and terror of someone who knows perfectly well what will happen to the class if the slightest thing goes wrong. This was NEWT level Potions, of course, and the price of mistakes was _much _dearer.

Why oh _why _had the Commander made Snape take Zabini on as his assistant? It was a fool's idea, and Severus hadn't disagreed just because he didn't like the man (though that was certainly a factor). It was no lie that potions were incredibly dangerous things to be around unless you knew proper safety precautions, and though _dear Matthew _had received his Mastery, Severus had yet to gain reassurance that he knew what the blazes he was doing.

And it wasn't like Snape felt comfortable with his seventh year students, anyway. _Potter _was in it, for Merlin's sake, and any class with the brat involved had the gift of pushing Snape's blood pressure right up. He was still in a permanent state of astonishment that the boy had made it to his class. The four Ravenclaws, yes. Draco and Blaise…well, it was pushing it a bit with Draco, but yes. Granger, yes. _Salazar, _even the lone Hufflepuff Hornsby was far above average when it came to theoreticals. But Potter? …Well, even if he had no real ability, Severus had to admit that when he actually applied himself (and that was a very rare occasion indeed) Potter could get the mark he wanted. And he wanted nothing more than to become an Auror, a job you couldn't even apply for if you didn't have NEWT level Potions under your belt.

"Now Blai — erm, I mean Miss Zabini — could you be a dear and keep changing the fire's strength from low to cinder-burning while I pour the Jarbees in and chant the following spell, please?"

Snape ground his teeth together. _Don't phrase commands as questions, Zabini! Merlin, of all the dim-witted things to do… And it's Jarbee's _essence_, not pure Jarbees. If they were proper Jarbees we would all be off in the next world by now._

The "introduction" lesson (Dumbledore had nicely requested that Zabini hold the reigns over the classroom for the first class, so he could get used to everything. Severus had never felt the urge to send an Unforgivable to the Headmaster so much as at that moment. He was sure the crazed man was watching him now with his nefarious otherworldly abilities, grinning sadistically and getting high on lemon drops) went, quite surprisingly, without any students dropping dead from toxic gases, and without Severus dropping dead from an exploding vein pulsing near his temple. Blaise clearly knew what she was doing, even if her incompetent dunderhead brother had no clue. And any mischief conceived by the students was quickly discarded when Snape glared menacingly at the miscreants. After more than a decade of teaching, you picked up certain patterns of behaviour...Patterns from the children, of course; not him. He had no patterns or habits that people could chart. He was unpatternable. Unchartable, rather.

"Now, who knows what we do next?" Zabini asked cheerfully, and Granger shot her hand in the air, followed more slowly by Blaise, who didn't seem to know whether she should be offering information as she was already involved in the practical. "Yes, Miss Granger? What are your words of wisdom?"

The girl flushed slightly, but nevertheless recited a perfect textbook answer. Potter made an asinine comment about know-it-alls that Snape would have expected from a second year, and he smirked at the boy. "Five points, Mr. Potter. Try and keep your childish remarks to yourself. Alternatively, I'm sure Mr. Filch would enjoy hearing what you have to say. I would be only too happy to extend the time you already have with him."

Potter opened his mouth, presumably to say something derogatory about Snape, but seemed to come to his senses and snapped it shut before the words came out. Severus was disappointed, but contented himself with watching Potter trying to contain his overspilling anger. Just like his father, the brat had an overabundance of it.

The lesson dragged on, and Snape wondered how he was going to survive this _session, _let alone a whole _year, _with a nitwit assistant. Well, it could be worse. Certainly he'd been through worse in his lifetime...The fact that he couldn't recall any of those instances was purely coincidental.

Snape roved his eyes over the class, and had the distinct impression that if he hadn't been around to enforce obedience, there would already be a riot underway. That led him to think about Tobias, and he smirked, barely noticeably. He'd heard what the man had said to Black, and, though it greatly pained him, he agreed with the mutt. You couldn't expect to be a good teacher (although perhaps "good" was the wrong word. "Respected" was more like it) without any previous experience and with a non-existent attack plan (and this, most definitely, was exactly the right word). Questioning Thatcher about it when the mutt was taken up talking to his pet werewolf, the man had shrugged and said, "I've thought about it a bit. But it's a bit like riding a bicycle, I suppose: you can't plan for it; you just jump on and hope you pick it up as you go along." Which was an utterly ridiculous statement, of course, made even more so in that Severus had absolutely no idea what a bicycle was. A dangerous beast from Tobias' home world, presumably. Snape mentally gave the dimension traveller a push into the realm of Gryffindor for deciding it was wise to try and jump on the back of a dangerous beast with no planning.

He wondered how his mysterious friend was faring...

000

"We all know that Slytherins are all Junior Vipers!"

"Yeah, and all bloody stupid prats, too."

"Slytherin rules! Gryffindors are boneheaded little pawns!"

"And they blindly follow the manipulator Dumbledore!"

"YEAH? Well, you suck!"

"No we don't! YOU DO!"

"YOU DO!"

"YOU DO!"

"NO WE DON'T!"

"GRYFFINDORKS!"

"SLIMY SLYTHERINS!

_My god, they're imbeciles, _I thought, horrified.I recalled what Sirius had told me earlier, and wished he hadn't been so right. Teaching dark, brooding, monosyllabic Vipers was a _lot _different from teaching the Third Year Slytherin/Gryffindors.

After breakfast, us Professors had each gone our separate ways, Severus giving me a pleading glance before trudging off in the direction of the dungeons, obviously anticipation spending a great number of days in the company of Matthew. After promising Hagrid that I'd come and visit him in his hut whenever I had a spare minute, I headed up to the Divination tower, leaping up the stairs two at a time to try and shake off lingering nervousness and excitement.

"You! Young scallywag, turn around right now!"

I halted and turned in the direction of the voice, identifying it as a portrait of a rather pompous looking lady from the Victorian era. I vaguely remembered this painting from my world, but it had played no real part in my life except as a person to joke about with Ron, so details were hazy.

"Yes?" I asked politely.

"_What _do you think you're doing, young man? _Running _between classes? Wearing frivolous clothes reminiscent of an unfortunate homeless person; _certainly_ not school uniform. Who is head of your house, so that I may report you?"

I looked at her for a long moment, one eyebrow raised high, trying hard to ignore wolf laughing in the back of my mind. "…I'm not a student," I said finally. "Professor Thatcher, at your service. I'm a Professor of Divination."

She stared at me with her mouth open, then let out a bark of laughter. "_You," _she said incredulously. "_You're_ a Professor? Good Merlin, that has to be the most humorous thing I've heard all week." She laughed loudly for what seemed like a couple of minutes, then chortled, "I just have to tell Patty this," and disappeared.

I scowled at the empty frame. "Why does no one think I'll be any good at teaching?" I muttered to myself, and continued up the stairs.

_They're right though, _Wolf was telling me now as I looked at the crazy third years. _You are no good. _

It was incredibly irritating. I had thought to myself that if I acted nice, the kids would like me and there would be a minimum of fuss (and I had to admit uncomfortably to myself that a part of me had thought I would dazzle them with my…I dunno…incredible wit? Dark mystique? Innate magical ability? Some ridiculous thing like that). Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the way things went.

As soon as they came in, I had felt them sizing me up, seeing if I was going to be much trouble or an easy pushover. I'd taken the roll, which seemed to be an initiation rite of some sort; they found me lacking, apparently, and laughed hilariously when I missaid some of the names (how was I supposed to know that "Stiabhna" was pronounced like "Steena"?). And when I addressed a troublemaker who was talking through the roll, I found out that Miss King was actually Mr. King, with long golden tresses for hair. That also provided much laughter for the sadistic pri…the kids.

And oh, the _questions _they asked. "Sir, why is everything different?" "Sir, why doesn't it smell like gooey rats anymore?" "Sir, did Professor Partridge tell you about the hundred Galleons he promised me at the end of the year? No? Well, I suppose _you'd_ better give me them, then." "Sir, Joey says you used to be a secret agent in the SST — that's the Secret Service of Tibet. Do you think you could show us how to use Extra Bang Exploding Missiles?" Questions were good — questions were _great — _but…not these questions. Anyway, "Extra Bang Exploding Missiles" sounded like a name of something a joke shop with less imagination than the Weasley twins would make up.

And of course, the students were invariably going to realisethat there were both Slytherins and Gryffindors in the class, and remember that they were mortal enemies. Which lead to the childish shouting match they were having as I was reflecting.

_What do you suggest? _I asked my brother, slightly desperately. _You're better at this than I am. _

_Well, you have to discipline them, _wolf replied obviously. _A leader of pack doesn't get there by acting nice to everyone. He fights the other alpha males; subdues them. _He nudged me sharply with a mental nose. _You know all this, anyway. You're just not using it here for some reason._

_They're kids. I can't possibly act the same way I did to the Vipers._

_Well, no…not with the physical things, I suppose. But you could shout a bit more. Look: see the human male that you thought was female?_

_Mr King?_

_Yes. He is the central leader of the Gryffindor pack, whilst the female with the big teeth who tried to get money from you and the dark male with blue hair are the pack leaders of the Slytherins. It's easy to figure out: everyone looks at the pack leaders before they say anything to you, and _you_ subconsciously looked at them first, even though they weren't the first ones to enter, because they were projecting that atmosphere of leadership. _

_Well…okay, so what do you want me to do?_

He sighed impatiently. _Isn't it obvious? If you take out the pack leaders, the pack is wounded much more than it would be with anyone else. So you focus your attention on those three. _

_Why didn't you tell me all of this before? _I thought angrily. _It would have saved a lot of embarrassment._

Wolf snorted. _You're just like a mule, brother. Completely stubborn. You had a clear idea of what you were going to do, and you wouldn't have listened to me if I disagreed with you._

…_How am I going to get them to listen to me, anyway? _I asked, deliberately ignoring my soul brother's last comment. _I know I can shout, obviously, but I doubt that's going to fully halt the little bast… Ah, I know what I can do. When in doubt, copy the master._

I gave a huge, wide grin and beamed around the room, reminding myself rather vividly of Lockheart. Many of the children were either ignoring me and talking to each other or engaged in Slytherin/Gryffindor warfare, but the few that weren't looked at me skeptically.

"Dear children," I said warmly, and wasn't surprised when I wasn't very well heard over the din. "My dear children, this is all very nice, I assure you, but I believe now is the time to _silencio!" _All the noise stopped, and I grinned. "_NOW SIT QUIETLY!" _I slammed a hand hard on the table.

The kids looked back at me, eyes wide. I sighed dramatically and sat my two elbows on the desk, leaning my head on my fists. "_Finally," _I said to the student who my brother had said was co-leader of the Slytherins. "I thought you charming children would never be quiet." The girl avoided my gaze and I felt a pang of triumph, as though I had just won a duel or successfully carried out a Viper operation.

"Now," I said softly, "you have just demonstrated your level of intelligence and maturity, and thus you will have to accept the consequences of your actions. The silencing charm will stay on until you can prove that you are respectful and not about to get into a fight at the drop of a hat. I am perfectly willing to keep it on until you have proved that to me."

Immediately a hand rose in the air. _Mister King, _wolf said. _He's trying to gain power over the pack again. You'll have to keep him in line, brother. _

"King, isn't it?" I said, looking at the boy. "What was it you wanted to say?"

He opened his mouth, then glared sullenly when no sound came out. I gave him a sympathetic smile. "Ah, but of course; you can't speak, can you? How unfortunate. Perhaps you'd like to write down what you were going to tell me." It wasn't phrased as a question. King narrowed his eyes at me, then bent down, pulled out quill, ink and parchment and started writing painfully slowly, obviously trying to drag it out as long as possible. I said sorrowfully, "But of course, I should have realised that you're illiterate…"

He flushed angrily, and held up the parchment. I leaned a head forward inquisitively and read what he had written:

_Its a bit unfair to send us out to classes when were not able to talk, sir. How are we supposed to say spells if we cant say anything?_

"A good question, Mr. King, though you've forgotten about your apostrophes." He blinked stupidly at me, and I knew for certain that he wasn't muggle-born. "It _is _a bit unfair that I send you out to your next classes when you can't say any spells. So how about this, then: I _don't _send you to your next class; I just keep you in here until I'm satisfied." I mused to myself, deliberately not noticing more then half the class shaking their heads furiously. "Hmm…yes, that is a good idea, isn't it? Thank you, Mr. King; I would have never have thought of that without your help. Now, everyone get out parchment and quill and write down numbers one to thirty down the page. We're going to have a little test. Let's see how much you've learnt…" A hand immediately shot up in the air, and I looked questioningly at the Slytherin. "Yes, Miss," I consulted the roll, "Matherson?"

She furiously scribbled something down on the parchment and held it up for me to see.

_Sir, we're third years. This is our first year of Divination. We haven't had time to learn anything yet. _

"Actually, I won't be surprised if you know more than the sixth years I am going to be teaching next session," I told her, and was given a skeptic look in response. "Now, dear children, question one: what purpose do tea leaves have in the learning of Divination?"

I asked them mostly standard questions, though every now and again I would throw in something I'd only heard of but had absolutely no idea about ("What are trans-continental visions and how are they now affecting the poverty-stricken people in Third World Countries?") or something that seemingly had nothing whatsoever to do with the subject I was teaching ("Who, in your opinion, is the richest wizard or witch in the world?"). I took careful note of the different ways the students were reacting to these questions, and ginned inwardly when Mr. King tried in vain to hide his utter bewilderment. Well, there was at least one person who most definitely wouldn't be passing the quiz.

Finally, I gave them the last question ("What is the supposed myth that is related with meeting an animal called a 'grim'?") and took the parchment up. There were glares directed at me, and a few rude gestures (I rewarded this by staring unnervingly at the owners of those fingers when I had a free minute) but, not surprisingly, no one said anything.

"Thank you for your cooperation, charming children," I said brightly, then made my voice so soft the students had to strain to hear it. "You will have these back in time for your next lesson, and I pray to Merlin that you will not do too badly. However…_IF MORE THAN FIVE OF YOU FAIL YOU WILL FACE MY NOT INCONSIDERABLE WRATH!"_ I didn't think it sounded all that good, but the kids all started violently, so I must have made some impression.

"Now, this lesson was _going _to be devoted to a discussion of what Divination actually is, but since no one can talk at present but me, we will do some written work instead. Take out your text-books and read all of the first two chapters, then answer questions one to forty-five. If you finish all of that before the lesson is finished I _might _let you out in time to get to your — what class did you have again? Miss Joyce?" The girl glared, then wrote four huge letters on the parchment, pressing down with the quill so forcefully that it broke through the parchment at one point. "Hold it up, unless your arms are too weak to lift paper, in which case, please don't feel the need," I said pleasantly. She did so.

_DADA_

I grinned. "Ah. I'm sure you're all fine with missing that, aren't you? _Good." _

000

A few hours later I stepped out of my chambers, about to head down to lunch. My mind was occupied with thoughts about my coming class (I'd be prepared this time) so I didn't really notice the ghost coming in the opposite direction.

I certainly noticed when I walked through it, though. An icy chill ran through me, and, hissing in surprise, I whirled around and came face to face with the Bloody Baron.

"Tobias Thatcher, Divination Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," I said immediately, wary of Severus' warning words the day before. _"If you meet any ghosts, _immediately_ state your name and position in Hogwarts. They don't know you, so they'll be instantly suspicious." _

The Baron looked at me, and I shivered slightly. A blood-soaked ghost didn't help with nerves, to say the least, and my memories of him from the past weren't the best either. Then again, he did keep Peeves in line, and that was definitely commendable.

_Yes, _my brother said, _but what did he do to make the poltergeist so afraid of him in the first place, I wonder?_

"So," the ghost rasped eventually in a voice that reminded me of someone trying to talk with his throat cut, "you are the new Divination Professor."

"…Yes," I said. I wondered if there was some sort of test new teachers had to take. If so, I was sure I'd already failed.

We stood (well, I stood; he sort of floated) in silence for a while, and I was almost about to excuse myself when the Baron spoke again. "The last Divination Professor was not good for the school."

"I mean no harm to Hogwarts or its inhabitants," I said truthfully, easily reading between the lines. The last thing I wanted was for my home to be destroyed, even if it wasn't technically _my _home.

The Baron nodded, very slowly. "Make sure that statement refers to _my _children as well as the others. If it doesn't, there will be dire consequences. Good day, Redeemer." He floated through a wall.

I stared at the spot he'd disappeared into for a good five minutes, mind whizzing furiously. It wasn't so much that he knew who I supposedly was (though that _was _a factor); more the question of _where he had received the information._

That thought kept me occupied all the way to the Great Hall, and I took a seat next to Severus without really noticing what was going on around me. Was it _just _the Baron who knew, or did the other ghosts know too? Did Peeves? Now that was a chilling thought. What was to stop him from telling the whole school, and through the students, the media? The very last thing I wanted was for this whole Saviour mess to become public knowledge; I'd had enough of that sort of thingto last a lifetime. That was actually one of the reasons I hadn't told anyone here who I _really _was. Only one reason, mind.

"Tobias."

_You _will _have to tell them eventually, you know. _

"Thatcher, I have very limited patience."

_Perhaps. But I plan to keep them in suspense for as long as possible. _

"Thatcher!"

I blinked in confusion and turned my head slightly, locking gazes with an irate Severus. "Sorry," I murmured, blushing ever so slightly. "Wasn't concentrating."

"Yes, I could rather see that," said Snape snidely. "What, may I ask, is so important that you must take no notice of the rest of us lower creatures?"

"Aww, you want to be noticed," I said, not able to resist. "How sweet."

He bared his teeth at me. "Quite," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, seeming to think of something, he smirked. "Oh, and how was your first class for the year, Tobias? Third year Slytherins and Gryffindors, wasn't it? Were they to your liking?"

I fought a glare off my face. The bastard had _known _what problems I would be facing, but he had said nothing about it. "Oh, definitely," I said brightly. "They're such sweet kids, you know. I don't know why Sirius thought I'd have a problem with them. Especially — see the Gryffindor boy with the long blonde hair?"

"…Mr. King."

"Mmmhmm. Full of pertinent remarks, that one."

Severus looked disbelievingly. "Mr. King," he said slowly, "once utterly decimated my office, apparently because I'd given him a month's detention when he decided he valued Quidditch training over schoolwork. When taken up to Albus, he weaselled his way out of a suspension by pretending that he was alone, confused and influenced by peer pressure."

I shrugged. "Character building, that sort of stuff. And anyway, we've all wrecked offices when we were younger. I know _I _did." I couldn't help but laugh at Snape's expression. "What, Severus? Did you think that I wouldn't be able to control the students? I _had _said I'd taught before, if not to children."

Snape grumbled incoherently and stabbed his fork into the chicken a bit more forcefully than necessary. I stifled another laugh. He was just like a kid at times.

Remus and Lily came in then, and Snape started talking to my mother, pointedly ignoring me. My adopted father's gaze swept over the teacher's table (probably looking for Sirius) and fell a little when he realised he wasn't around. I gestured for him to sit next to me, thinking that I should probably try and build a few of the bridges I'd burnt. And also try and put his suspicions at rest about me.

"Good afternoon," he said politely. "How was your first class?"

"Terrible, at least at the beginning," I said ruefully, not playing around as I had done with Severus. "Third year Gryffindor and Slytherin."

He winced sympathetically. "Oh, lucky you. What happened?"

"Well, they toyed with me a bit, especially Mr. King, Mr. Clarke and Miss Joyce. You know them?"

"Yes. Mr. Clarke and Miss Joyce are absolute terrors in my class, though Mr. King isn't quite so bad, even if he obviously finds theory boring."

"Well, you've probably got his respect. Me, on the other hand… He seems to think I'm a bit…what's the word…"

"Slytherin?" Remus suggested.

My brow furrowed. "Perhaps… Those two houses — Gryffindor and Slytherin, that is — seem to have some sort of grudge against each other, judging from the insults they were flinging around."

Remus snorted, grabbing the jug of juice. "That's an understatement. Those houses have been at war with each other ever since the founding of the school."

I looked confused. "Why?"

Remus looked pensively into his glass. "Tradition, I suppose." His gaze turned cynical. "Why do people need an excuse to do something that's always been done? _Surely _their forefathers must have had their reasons."

I almost choked on the nuts I'd been eating. That was almost an exact replica of what my world's Remus had once told me, all those years ago when I'd been living with him. "Yeah," I said softly. "Yeah, it was like that back in my home, too." I shook my head to dislodge memories. "Anyway, the Lets-Crush-All-Tobias'-Ideals-About-Teaching fest went for, oh, twenty, thirty minutes, until I decided that the nice approach wasn't working. The mentally deranged approach made them nice and attentive, though. I'm surprised that none of _my _teachers ever thought of that."

"Perhaps they wanted to maintain their dignity," Remus said, seemingly innocently. "So, what was it that you did, exactly? Start foaming at the mouth, muttering in another language, that sort of thing?"

I shot him a glare. "I'm going to teach them, and to do that they need to at least be able to understand what I'm saying." Though there _was_ a certain appeal in hissing Parsletongue at the students and watching what happened. "No, I pretty much just kept them off-balance. Whispering one moment, shouting the next. Calling them 'charming', then giving them a surprise quiz. Casting silencing charms on them…what?"

Remus frowned at the last point. "Try not to do that too often," he said. "The Board of Governors really disapproves of teachers using magic on their students. It's seen as a violation of the students' rights."

This time I actually was confused. "Why? It's not like I'm harming them at all."

"No, but if you misused the magic you could."

"…I suppose," I said, thinking about it. It all my student life, I couldn't remember any Professors casting spells on us students, other than to fix up the messes we'd created on each other. Well, okay, there _was _Crouch Jr. who put us all under _imperius_, but he was a Death Eater. Not such a great example to follow, perhaps. "Okay, no more magic, then. I suppose I'll have to act even more eccentric to keep them in line."

_Well, maybe, _my soul brother said. _But things will be a lot easier to control if you make a good entrance. First scent — eh, first _impressions — _create many different moods, and account for much of what all animals will think of you._

_True. _I glanced over to Severus, and remembered something he'd said to me a few minutes ago. Well, perhaps it would make Remus a little less suspicious…

"Hey Remus, Severus mentioned something about 'Quidditch' when I was talking to him. Er, what's that?"

000

Luna yawned, big and loud. "I'm tired," she announced sleepily to Allison. "But that _was _fun last night, wasn't it? Although Hermione didn't really have such a great time. I don't think she likes us all that much."

"Hmm," Allison agreed, walking beside her friend on the way to their first Divination class. "I think it's also that she doesn't know us, really, and she only knows Ginny a little. And I don't think she's really very sociable with people. Last night was the first time I've seen her not carrying huge tomes around the place. I suppose it must be harder to talk to people than books, and you can't say she has a lot of experience."

"Allison," Ginny chided, coming up behind the girl with a disapproving expression on her face.

"Well, it's true," Allison said, defending herself. "Ginny, I'm not saying she isn't…isn't a nice person, but you have to admit that she hardly ever talks to people. And it's hard to be friends with someone who you hardly ever see, and who's a year older than you so you can't even talk about homework. Anyway," she shrugged, "I don't think Hermione really wants to talk to me, anyway. Like Luna said, I always get the feeling that she doesn't like me much. And she'll be gone soon enough. I don't think I have time to become friends."

Ginny sighed. "You really are insensitive, Ally. And what do you mean, she doesn't like you? Of _course_ she likes you. We talk, and she's never said anything bad about you."

If there was one fault with Ginny's character, Allison thought to herself moodily, it was that she always thought the best of everyone if there wasn't substantial evidence to back up the opposite claim. And Hermione…well, at the risk of sounding like a stuck up prat, the Ravenclaw had always thought that the girl was _jealous _of her.

Allison was lucky to have friends like Ginny and Luna, really. She knew she had myriad faults, but the two girls didn't even seem to notice them. Perhaps that was why, when Hermione and Allison were in the same room, you could cut the tension with a knife.

Hermione wanted what Allison had.

The girls climbed the steps to the Divination tower, Allison breathing heavily by the time they were at the top. "I _hate _the way Hogwarts has all these stairs," she said. "One thing muggles are absolutely right about are their escalators and elevators. Surely we could use magic to create things like that."

"Yes, but then how would all those students who don't like sport get any exercise?" Ginny asked innocently.

"Ha," was the sour reply. Then, "What's wrong, Luna?"

The Ravenclaw was staring dreamily up at the trapdoor. "This place feels a lot different than before."

"Well, there's a new Divination teacher," Allison pointed out. "I'm sure he's changed things a bit from how they were. I definitely would have." She shuddered, thinking of the way Professor Partridge had murdered a perfectly good classroom with his interior decorating skills. Divination had been a good bludge session…but not if you had hay fever, were prone to epileptic fits or had a low tolerance of heat.

Luna considered the idea, then nodded slowly. "That would make sense," she said serenely. "When Mr. Partridge was around, he talked a lot with that book of his, which made the room feel like it did before. But then he said mean things to Blinky and left the school, and so now it feels like it does now."

"Er…arguments with a book? And who's Blinky?" Ginny asked, confused.

"You don't know Blinky? He's a very polite hippogriff who —"

"Oh, _that _Blinky." Ginny nodded. "You've mentioned him before, but I thought you were talking about a human."

The other sixth year Divination students gradually entered the room, all probably wondering what the teacher was going to be like. Allison wished belatedly that she'd asked a third year how their experience had gone that morning: like most Ravenclaws, she didn't like the feeling of not knowing something.

The trapdoor swung open, and a forbidding voice called, "Come in." Allison and Ginny exchanged glances. Professor Thatcher had seemed pretty nice the last time they'd spoken to him.

Allison climbed up the trapdoor after her friends, looking in relief at the changes that the room had gone through. Well, at least this year there would be less people fainting. Probably.

"To your seats, everyone." Allison started and whirled around; Professor Thatcher was leaning against the wall right next to the trapdoor, face impassive. The girl took a seat and looked at the Professor with apprehension, wondering why he was acting so different than he had the day before.

Soon enough everyone was seated around the strange semicircular table, whispering to each other. That stopped, however, when Thatcher lazily sat at his desk, leaned back on his chair and propped his feet up on the table. "Ah, that's better," he remarked to no one in particular. Allison found herself looking at her Professor's boots: the dull brown leather had a symmetrical pattern of spirals pressed into it, continuing one another and looking rather more ethereal than was the norm with hiking boots. Allison smiled slightly, remembering Dorice "Lightwriter" Allermain, a witch from the eighteenth century who'd had a dream about never-ending spirals and had written a book about it so fast that it was a bestseller within a month.

Ginny nudged Allison, pulling her out of her thoughts. "What happened to the Professor Thatcher we spoke to yesterday?" she whispered. "It's like he —"

"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, I didn't realise you had something to say. How rude of me to talk while someone else is speaking."

Ginny blushed. "Sorry, Sir."

"No, _I'm _the one who should be apologising," Thatcher said calmly, pulling up his sleeves and banging his boot rather loudly on the table. Allison noticed that most of the students were looking incredulously at their Professor, quite a few trying to stifle their laughter. "Do go on with your conversation. We're anxious to hear it." He waved a languid hand.

"Er…" Ginny looked at Allison, slightly desperately. The complete silence of the class wasn't helping matters. "Well, er, like I said, I…um…"

"Divination is a really useful subject," Allison said loudly, deciding that her dignity could go jump for the remainder of the session. "There are different sorts of divination abilities, and each has its pros and cons. One type is Natural Divination, which is what Rowena Ravenclaw, Lauwrence Ollivander, Igor Domakov, Napoleon Bonaparte and my mother," her voice took on a prideful note, "had and have. It's an ability that you're born with, much like magical ability, though it's not exclusive to witches and wizards. The advantages of it are that you have possibly-lifesaving visions. The disadvantages are that your visions may be incorrect, as they only show a _possible _future, and there is a slight strain on your soul."

"Interesting, though I seem to remember I asked _Miss Weasley _to speak, not you."

"No, sir," said Allison. "You asked us to continue our conversation. That's what I was doing. Sir."

There was a silence, and Allison tried to keep her gaze locked on the Professor, ending up failing miserably. Her brows knitted together as she looked down at her textbook. There was something intensely _familiar _about Thatcher, though she had no idea what it could be.

"…What's your name?" the Professor asked eventually, getting out of his seat and searching the bookshelves behind him, seemingly looking for something.

The girl's gaze flew up. Everyone knew who she was, didn't they? Her bastard father was the Minister, so of course they regularly published information about Allison, Allison's mother, Potter Jr. and Potter Sr. in all those ridiculous gossip magazines (and in the _Daily Prophet_, of course, which was the biggest gossip magazine of them all).

"Allison Evans, sir," she said. "Lily Evans' daughter."

The Professor's back was turned away from the class, but Allison saw him visibly stiffen, one fist clenched tightly. It was only for a moment, but Allison saw it and, judging from Ginny's narrowed gaze and Luna's tilted head, her friends had too.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Luna asked, concerned. "You look a little green. Actually, you look like Ginevra did when the Wheezibeetles got to her and she started vomiting everywhere. Perhaps the Wheezibeetles have got to y — why are you making that cutting motion with your hand, Allison? Are _you _feeling sick now?"

Then the Professor turned back around, and he seemed to be perfectly composed again. "Actually, I think I might be coming down with something," he said calmly. "Perhaps you're right, miss Lovegood. I think I'll go and get myself a Pepper-up potion from the stocks in my room. I won't be more than a few minutes. While I'm gone, read over chapter eight: Bell Divination." He left the room. It might have been Allison's imagination, but after a few seconds she seemed to hear a distant bang on the wall, followed by a stifled curse.

"How come he knew your name, but not mine?" she asked Luna when the noise in the room had picked up again.

The girl shrugged. "Perhaps he reads the _Quibbler. _Dad talks about me in the aknowledgements every issue."

"But he knew my name too," Ginny said. "That's…strange. Actually, come to think of it, he knew who Potter and Ron were too. Remember yesterday, when he met them just outside the Great Hall?"

"Hmm." Allison lent her head on her fist. "It is wasn't just that he didn't know my name. He seemed _angry."_

"Not angry," Luna disagreed serenely. "He was green. You don't turn green when you're angry; that's red. He was…sick. Sick and shocked. Sick with shock."

"But why was he shocked? There's nothing surprising about me being who I am."

"Perhaps," said Ginny hesitantly, "perhaps this has something to do with what Ron and Harry found out two and a half weeks ago. That thing you overheard."

Allison was confused for a moment. What thing did she… Oh yes, _that _thing. "Secret patient guy in Mme. Pomfrey's office," she repeated. "Might have something to do with the war. Potter and Weasley eavesdropped. Not even all the teachers know about it. What about it?"

"Well, Ron and Harry seemed pretty shocked themselves when they saw Thatcher for the first time," Ginny said slowly, as though working it out as she went along. "They were stunned, almost. So, what if – what if — what if Professor Thatcher _is _that person they saw in the Hospital Wing?"

There was a pause as Allison ran up the facts in her head, absently biting her fingernails and looking slightly reminiscent of a rabbit. "You're probably right," she murmured. "It would make sense. But then," she sighed, "that makes everything _else _so confusing!"

"Professor Thatcher is the Divination teacher," said Luna dreamily. "I suppose he must know our names through Divination."

"Then _why _didn't he know _mine?_" And why had he seemed so horrified?

"Well…" Ginny bit her lip nervously, "perhaps we'd understand it better if we…if we spoke to Ron and Harry about —"

"There is _no way _I'm asking my bastard of a brother for help," Allison growled. "It was bad enough when we got together to look for you in that strange room…wait a minute…" Her eyes grew wide. "What if there's a connection between Professor Thatcher and the room? Things like memory loss don't happen by accident, and that whole incident had a very fishy smell to it."

"Not everything connects to everything else, Ally."

Luna looked at Ginny strangely. "Yes it does," she said, as though it were obvious. "Everything connects, even if you can't see the connection. Not many people can. They don't really _want _to see it, I think." She shrugged. "People are weird. They're the only animals with the ability to stop themselves from seeing what's jumping up and down on their noses."

Allison and Ginny grinned at one-another. Luna didn't seem to notice.

Professor Thatcher came back in then, and acted just as he had been at the start of the lesson. He gave them a surprise quiz, of which Allison only knew about half the answers (she wasn't really all that good at Divination, but Ginny and Luna were and Divination class was one of the only subjects where they were all in class together, so Allison had got her "E" through sheer force of will). He revealed afterwards that the quiz was the same one he had given to the third years. Allison was actually pretty offended, and opened her mouth to say something. She was stopped when Ginny kicked her shin sharply. "Stop being so Gryffindor," she mouthed. Allison scowled.

There was, of course, the usual event of the students trying to take the Professor's position of power from him. The Name Game was a usual starting point, but Thatcher bypassed that easily, making Ginny take the roll instead of him (Allison noticed that he was paying particular attention to the names called out, as though instilling them into his memory). There was the odd smart remark from a student, but Thatcher had a strange way of _looking _at you incredibly intently after you'd said it, and the third time it was done he had actually _stood on the table _and walked across to the boy, his shoes making soft _thunks _when they contacted the wood.

"Do I look oblivious to you, Mr. Barnes?"

"N-no, sir."

"Good! See that you remember it, charming child." Warm smile with a barely perceptible flicker of malice. Allison was reminded, yet again, of someone else, though this time it was a different someone than it had been the first time…if that made sense.

He said the _real _learning would start the next session. Allison couldn't help thinking that the Professor had taught the trio a valuable lesson: all was not as it seemed. Quite a few pieces were missing from the puzzle, and most of the ones that _were _there were mangled and impossible to fit together.

Allison had no doubt that her egotistical brother was already on the case — the boy had a curiosity streak longer than the Nile and the gluttonous desire for praise and admiration. However, Allison was determined, for once, to discover the mystery that was surrounding Professor Thatcher, the Secret Patient (who may or may not have been the same person) and Hermione Granger's Secret Room. And she would find out before Harry Potter.

000

After classes had finished, Harry lead a grueling Quidditch practice (this time out on the castle and on the actual pitch, because apparently the wards were fully functional again). By the end of it Harry was breathing hard and sweating like a pig, and he collapsed on the grass next to Ron.

"We'll have to pick a try-out date soon," he said to his friend and co-captain. "Two weeks, maybe. Pretty soon. We need to be training with a proper team as soon as possible."

There was a silence as each thought his own thoughts. "That's three 'soons', mate," Ron observed. "You seem a bit nervous."

Harry plucked a bit of grass from the ground and glared at it. "We suck, Ron," he said. "The team sucks, anyway. Last year the score to Slytherin was 10—160, and that was _before _the snitch was caught. The only Cup we've won when I've been here was third year, and I was the youngest bloody seeker in a century! If we're so damn good, why do we never _win?"_

"The Slytherins' brooms," Ron said immediately. "Before Mr. Malfoy was found out as a Viper, he spent loads to get his ickle Draco the best on the market. They've _all _got bloody Firebolts." He glanced at his best friend. "Hey, why hasn't your dad done that for us? He's definitely bringing in the galleons."

"Ron, I tell you this every year: he probably would have, but he found out that Mr. Malfoy's done it and 'doesn't want to sink to that scum's level'."

Harry looked briefly to see if Ron was getting agitated about the talk about money, but thankfully Ron's mind seemed to have veered back into other things. "So, how was your day?" School, apparently.

"Urgh, don't ask. Potions is a like one of those terribly nightmares with a sort of vague fear that just keeps going on and on and on, although it was fun to see Snape getting so pissed off at Professor Zabini. But that's nothing to transfiguration, where half the stuff I don't get and the other half is revision I was _supposed _to have already learnt."

"Well, you weren't any worse than me. At least _you _knew that the weird 'c' with a squiggle on the bottom is said like an 's'." Ron looked a tiny bit hopeful. "Hey, you think that McGonagall will mind that my bed was green with three eyes?"

"Well, she didn't look that happy when she came over and shouted at you," Harry said doubtfully. "An E might be pushing it a bit, but I'm sure…you'll pass…" It took a huge amount of effort to make his voice sound sincere.

"It's not even really my fault!" Ron wailed. "If only Granger would give me a clue! She usually butts in if I'm doing something wrong, and I saw her helping Seamus, so why couldn't she help me today?" He growled. "I bet it has something to do with that bloody room I have no idea of going to. She was the only one who knew where it was, and — oh, come on, Harry, haven't you got _over _your obsession with all that stuff? It was bad enough to have you a walking zombie at the Ball."

"At least _I _can remember what I did," Harry shot back distantly, not really listening. "The whole thing…doesn't fit… It's so bloody annoying that I don't take Divination anymore! How can I figure Professor Thatcher out if I don't see him regularly?" He looked at Ron. "You've got Divination, don't you? When's your first class?"

"Tomorrow," Ron said. "Last period. But I'm not going to be your little spy, Harry. You could have taken Divination if you wanted."

"I didn't know there was going to be a great bloody mystery surrounding the new guy, now did I? And I'm taking to many subjects as it is. I never realised how hard it was to become an auror." He sighed. "We have clues, but I can't put them all together. It's so _complicated._"

"Then don't think about it."

Harry punched his friend playfully. "Prat. But why don't _you _want to know what's going on? You were the one directly involved."

Ron shrugged. "I'm curious, but honestly mate, worrying about it isn't going to get you anywhere. 'What's coming will come'." He yawned loudly and stood up, stretching his back. "If you want to find out more about what's happening, why not ask Ginny, Evans and Lovegood? They'll probably have figured out something that we don't know."

Harry scowled, staying stubbornly on the ground. "There is _no way _I'm asking my bitch of a sister for help and, no offence, Ron, but if we talk to Ginny she's going tell Evans what we discussed. And if we asked Loony we wouldn't be able to make out one word of her reply."

"Granger, then?" Ron suggested. "She definitely knows something; she was the one who knew how to get into the room, after all."

"…Actually," said Harry slowly, "that's not a bad idea. Granger's annoying, but I'll face that if she has the information I need. I never did get a proper answer to how she knew to get to that secret room."

000

Hermione watched warily as the two Gryffindors came over to her corner of the Common Room, wondering what they wanted this time.

It was amazing, she thought absently, how nothing really changed over the years. Potter and Weasley were always wanting her to do things for them, with hardly any regard for _her _feelings on the matter. Then, once they had got what they wanted, they inevitably left again and didn't come back until there was something else they needed. They thanked her, when they remembered to do so. They never respected her. She was a stuck-up know-it-all.

She didn't miss the irony that it was still probably the closest thing she had to a friendship. Oh, well…there was Ginny, but…well...honestly, that was more pity than anything. At least Weasley and Potter didn't pity her.

"Yes?" Hermione asked wearily. She'd been getting surprisingly tired lately. "What do you want help with?"

"We want to know anything you know about Professor Thatcher," Potter said, getting right into it.

She put her Ancient Runes textbook on her crossed legs. "Why? You're not planning to prank him, are you? That would lose us a _lot _of points, and we can't afford that right now."

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, we're not going to prank him," Potter said arrogantly. "At least not soon."

"Are you about to do anything against school rules, then? If it involves me, _I _might be expelled."

"Well —"

"Look, Hemione," Ron interrupted, "Professor Thatcher…well, there's something not quite right about him. Er," he glanced at Harry, who frowned briefly before nodding, albeit reluctantly, "you know how me and Harry were having all these detentions before school even started?"

Hermione's eyebrows flew up, more from the use of her first name than Weasley and Potter having detention. "No, I didn't notice. But why is there something strange about you two having detention?"

"Well, do you wonder how we _got _those detentions? It all started when Seamus told us he'd overheard Dumbledore and Snape talking about a patient in a separate area of the Hospital Wing…"

Hermione listened to the story, only just refraining from berating the boys when they told of happily breaking rules _again. _

Once they'd finished, Hermione thought in silence for a short while. "Okay, your worries make quite a bit more sense now." She ticked the facts off her fingers. "One: you found Professor Thatcher in Madam Pomfrey's other room, and he was in a pretty bad shape. Two: Professor Snape let it slip that him being there was a secret so big that not even all the teachers knew about it. Three: when Professor Thatcher woke up he was confused, and didn't know what was happening. Is that all you've learnt about him?"

"Pretty much," Weasley admitted. "Oh, and also: when Snape and the Commander were talking, they said that he was 'almost fixed up', which means that he would have been in a much worse state when he first came to Hogwarts."

Hermione tried to remember the times she'd spoken to Professor Thatcher. There weren't many, but… "I spoke to him yesterday, actually. He," _gave me some advice which led to me being utterly humiliated,_ "was asking Madam Pomfrey about Professor Partridge. Nothing really suspicious…" Her eyes suddenly went wide. "He knew my name! 'Miss Granger', he said to Pomfrey!"

Well, that's…strange," Harry said. "Is that all you know?"

Hermione considered. "Actually, no. There was that day a while ago — you were asking me to do your homework for you, remember? Anyway, I ran into Commander Dumbledore and Professor Snape right in front of the Hospital Wing. Snape was really exhausted because he'd been making a very difficult potion _which he then took into the Hospital Wing_. So chances are that the potion was for Professor Thatcher."

"Thanks, Granger," Potter said looking slightly pained. "C'mon, Ron."

"Sure. See you, Granger."

They turned to go, but Potter stopped suddenly like he'd remembered something. "Oh yeah. Granger, how did you find that secret room in the first place?"

Hermione's mind went blank for a moment, before she snapped out, "I found it by accident, of course. Do you think no one ever has your insane luck but you?"

"Well, there's no need to get snooty about it," Potter said, annoyed. "I'm sorry I asked."

Hermione watched as they left. She felt a bit guilty at her lie…but only a bit. There were some things no one but her should know. And speaking of that…

She walked out of the Common Room, heading to the place she had just been talking about. For a little time after that incident with the unconscious Weasleys Hermione had been nervous about going back there, but really, she'd reasoned, she'd been safe all Holidays, so the chances of being harmed in that room were actually very minimal. And Ginny and Ron hadn't even been harmed while there; just put to sleep for a little while. Merlin knew Hermione had spent a great many afternoons taking a nap in the Room, curled around her very favorite book. A book that made her feel so much better about herself that she could actually spend one whole day in a good mood...

Hermione entered the passage, smiling at the man in the painting who took the password. She wasn't an idiot; far from it. She had been suspicious at first — but it was so nice to talk to someone who understood you.

The Room was, as usual, pleasantly warm when Hermione went in. The girl paused a moment and smiled. The Room had really been a great discovery. She'd only found it at the end of the last school term, though she would never have found it at all without a bit of help…

She pulled out her wand and transfigured the button on the ground into a nice, comfortable deep red armchair, then took the ribbon she'd had in her pocket since that mysterious night and turned it into a ballpoint pen. Surveying her handiwork and finding it sufficient, Hermione nodded to herself, then picked the diary off the ground and took it to the chair.

She opened it eagerly, then wrote onto the seemingly blank pages, _Good evening, Tom. How are you?_

000

Things starting to make a bit of sense, but still very confusing? If so, I'm doing my job right. If not, hit me and call me names, 'cos I deserve it after making this chapter so late in coming. Hopefully it's interesting enough to make up for the long wait.

Oh, and a message to **1337**: you don't have an email address, so I have to tell you here. Thanks for inviting me to be a staff on your C2, but I've just realised there's a bit of a bug/virus with the whole C2 system, and for some reason I can't rec any stories onto the C2. So, yeah. Sorry I let you down, but it's out of my control. I'm actually sort of annoyed because _I _want to create a C2 and am not able to.

And my hit counters were reset! Damnit; that's really bloody annoying.


	17. Chapter 14

Hey everyone. Long time no see. I'm sure you'd rather read the next chapter than listen to me blather, so here you go.

**Chapter 14**

At the end of the next day, Ron plonked down onto a seat at the Great Hall with a sigh. "Divination's not as easy as it used to be, Harry," he said glumly.

The boy glanced up with sudden interest. "Why? What happened? What was Thatcher like? Did he do anything suspicious?"

Ron shrugged, piling his plate with a pyramid of food. "Dunno. He's acting like a complete lunatic, if that's what you mean. And he gave us bloody piles of homework."

Ron explained what had happened that day in Divination, Harry listening avidly. Thatcher had let them into the room quietly, but as soon as they were in he had announced quite candidly that Friday the next week the seventh years would be having a test that would count forfortyper centof the semester's mark. He had then told them to throw their seventh year text (Delicate Aspects of the Divination Craft, written by Kryistall Nanoego and chosen by Professor Partridge) into the fire, remarking that the whole thing was rubbish and that he could learn more about Divination from going to a dodgy muggle fortune-teller.

Harry snorted. "Granger must've been angry."

"Livid," Ron agreed. "She wouldn't destroy the book, so Thatcher let her keep it. She has to read it all by Friday, though. Thatcher said that if she found even a speck of intelligence then he would pay for the class to all get new ones." He shook his head, amazed. "She's got to be barmy. Who can read a book that big in two days?"

"I'm just surprised she hasn't read, reread and had the whole thing memorised by now," Harry said. "That's what she usually does with her textbooks. How else would she get all her spells right on the first try?"

"Granger's _mad_," Ron said vehemently.

"I _can_ hear you, you know."

The boys looked up. Hermione was sitting on the opposite side of the table, a bright purple book placed where the food would normally be.

"I wouldhave read it, but we were only given our textbooks two days ago. And it's not like Divination's my favourite subject, anyway." She grimaced. "Far from it. But no matter my personal feelings, _nothing _justifies the destruction of books."

Ron scoffed and swallowed the huge piece of steak he had just been chewing. "Granger, if you'd seen some of the books the Ministry's confiscated — Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read _Sonnets of a Sorcerer _spoke in limerics for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could _never stop reading! _You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And —"

"All right, I've got the point," said Hermione, annoyed. "But _they_ have dark magic in them. I don't think it's very likely the Commander would let Professor Partrige teach with a book you could never stop reading."

"Perhaps he didn't notice? Dumbledore's got a lot of things to do, and it's just a b —"

"Speaking of noticing things," said Harry loudly, who had been waiting for a place to butt in for a while, "Granger, what did you notice about Thatcher? Any different from what Ron saw? Did you find out any more about why he was in Madam Pomfrey's —"

"_Not here,_" Hermione hissed angrily, gesturing at the rest of Gryffindor table where quite a few of the students were staring, starstruck, at Harry. "Honestly, Potter, you're famous enough that conversations taking place in the Great Hall have a _huge_ chance of being overheard."

"Well, what do _you _suggest?"

"The Library," Hermione said obviously. "It's quiet, and not many people are around at this time."

"Fine," said Harry shortly, standing up. He was annoyed that he hadn't already thought of that, but if Granger would tell him more about Professor Thatcher then he would reign in his temper. "C'mon, Ron," he said to his friend.

The boy looked up mournfully. "But Harry, food!"

"We'll get some from the kitchens later. This is more important."

"_More important _than dinner_?" _Ron groaned. "Harry, you've got your priorities all mixed up." Nevertheless, after stuffing a few potatoes in his mouth, Ron followed Harry and Hermione to the Library.

Madam Pince glared darkly at the trio as they entered her sacred area. "I hope you three haven't forgotten the new rules. Only two books out at a time."

"We haven't forgotten," Hermione replied, her mouth pulled back in a tight line. She chose a table as far away from the librarian as possible.

"They're disgusting, those rules," she whispered furiously. "How am I supposed to get the best mark in essays and exams if I'm cut off from the reading material? It's not as if I can spend all my time in the library."

"Why does it matter? You already _do _spend all your time in the library," Harry said, then bit his tongue. He should really stop criticizing the person who had information he needed…

Hermione just looked tired, however. "If you say so. What was it you wanted to know about Divination class? I have to go back to reading this." She brandished the purple Divination book.

Harry repeated what he had said before, and Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, Weasley was right about his idiosyncrasy. He has a lot of quirks that he only shows in class that keep you off-balance and wondering what he'll do next. He paired the Slytherins and Gryffindors together — though that's not really unusual — and told us we had to make up the biggest lie possible, but do it with a completely straight face. Of course, most of the Slytherins could do it easily…but the Gryffindors were better when we were told to say it as a Divination teacher would. I suppose Slytherins don't like acting like brain-dead idiots."

"But Gryffindors don't mind because it's normal for us, hey Hermione?" said Ron with a grin.

"Um."

"Anything else?" Harry asked.

The girl shook her head, red tinges of colour on her cheeks. "I don't think so…"

"He knew all our names," Ron said, yawning. He didn't seem to think much of the detective work that was going on. "He took the roll, yeah, but unless he has a brilliant memory he wouldn't be able to remember fifteen names right off the bat. Remember how McGonagall kept thinking Seamus was Dean?"

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table. "Mmm, that follows on from what I told you yesterday about him knowing _my _name. But I asked some Gryffindor third years about it, and they said that he had no idea what their names were, and misread quite a few."

"Well, maybe...maybe he's been told the names of the classes that...that are going to have something to do with the war," said Harry, grasping at strings.

Hermione shook her head. "No, that wouldn't be it. Why would the teachers want their students to go to war, and even if they did, what could we possibly do to help? It doesn't make any sense. But...perhaps it does have something to do with the age of the student..." She looked thoughtful.

"Maybe he has a super-human memory that only works part-time," said Ron darkly. "Maybe he's having a secret affair with Pomfrey, but Snape found out and got so jealous that he beat him up, then got scared he'd be fired so told hardly any of the teachers. Maybe he's one of the Vipers' assassins sent to kill us all, but has been Obliviated so only remembers the names of half his targets. Maybe he's from the future, and only some of us are alive then. Maybe he's from the past, and some of us haven't been born yet."

"Ron –"

"No, Harry," said Ron. "This whole thing is way too complicated, and most of the explanations we can think of are complete rubbish. Remind me again why we're worrying about this? The only real, hard evidence we have is Snape's view that the whole 'Thatcher, Secret Patient' thing is some huge secret. And when have we ever trusted Snape? I doubt anyone else," he stood up suddenly and flung his hands out in an attempt to illustrate the school, "is suspicious about Thatch —" Ron's breath hitched. One arm seemed to have stopped short of its final destination.

"Ouch," said the air in a dreamy, slightly pained voice.

Ron pulled his hand away as though it were burned. There was a dead silence for a few moments, and Harry seemed to hear the sound of a few pairs of footsteps retreating.

Suddenly everything clicked. "Evans," Harry growled and jumped out of his seat, flailing around blindly with his arms. He was sincerely glad that Colin and Dennis weren't around to take a picture.

The footsteps got louder as the young spies hurried to get away. Harry ran in the direction of the sound, and got no warning but a short squeal before he banged into the invisible people, sending them all sprawling on the ground. Harry felt the silvery material of the invisibility cloak and tugged hard at it, pulling it off the culprits.

As he had expected, the faces of his sister and her two friends stared back at him.

"_What _are you doing with my cloak?" Harry asked Evans angrily, completely ignoring Ginny and Luna.

"I – uh..." Evans' face hardened. "Why shouldn't I? It's mine too."

"It was _dad's, _and he gave it to _me_."

"Well, you stole the map that Sirius and Remus gave to me. Fair trade, wouldn't you say?"

Harry felt a hot surge of rage at his sister, and just barely refrained from pulling out his wand and cursing her. "At least I didn't spy on you with the map," he said through gritted teeth.

He felt someone come and stand beside him, and was sure it was Ron until the voice spoke. "Potter is right," said Hermione, almost shaking with anger. "That's a complete violation of someone's privacy, not to mention completely against the rules. It's...it's disgusting. How could you?"

" Because we – we thought – uh – we though that..." Strong and in control against Harry, Evans' confidence seemed to wither when faced with Hermione. Ginny, too, was looking ashamed, her face beet-red. Only Luna seemed calm.

"Allison thought that you would be trying to find out why Professor Thatcher was strange – because he knew our names but not her's, and bangs on the table, and went green, like when the Wheezibeetles got to Ginny and she started vomiting," the strange girl said matter-of-factly. "She thinks it has something to do with the room, but Ginny doesn't. I haven't decided yet. Anyway, we wanted to see what you thought about it."

There were a few moments of silence, then Ron spoke up. "Thatcher turned green?" he asked incredulously, coming closer to the group. "Green like those aliens dad talks about? Hey Harry, I think we've just found another rubbishy explanation: the Professor isn't actually human at all!"

"Shut it, Ron," Harry said absently. He focused on Luna. "You think Professor Thatcher is suspicious too?"

Luna nodded slowly, then paused and shook her head. She seemed to think. "...I'm not sure," she said finally, shrugging. "Allison and Ginny do. It certainly was strange when he left the room and banged the wall and swore."

Evans looked up, surprised. "That actually happened? I thought I was imagining it."

Harry frowned. "So, you were spying on us because...because you thought he was fishy and...somehow...knew," his gaze flew up, furious. "You knew that we thought the same thing! Which means that you must have spied on us before!"

"No, Potter, you don't understand –"

"OH YES I DO!" Harry was almost frothing at the mouth. "WHAT OTHER STUFF HAVE YOU SEEN, HUH?"

"Calm down, mate," Ron said quickly. "It's not that big of a –"

"IT IS! IT'S SICKENING!"

"Harry, someone might hear us," Hermione whispered, though she too was glaring at the girls.

"I DON'T CARE!"

"Well I never!"

Harry froze and turned around, seeing the others do the same. Madam Pince was no more than a metre away from the group, glaring daggers at all of them.

"This is a _library,_" she said, striding forward, "and never in my whole _life _have I seen such blatant disregard of the rules. Running. Screaming. _Use of invisibility cloaks._" She snatched up the cloak lying on the ground. "Now, I have no idea what was going on, and I don't particularly care. But you shall _not _disgrace yourself in my library."

Hermione stepped forward. "Madam Pince, I can explain —"

"Miss Granger, I am particularly disappointed in you. I thought you were a nice young girl. Thirty points from Gryffindor."

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she snapped her mouth closed.

"Detention for all of you, _separately._ Come back tonight at nine sharp and I'll allocate things to do. Now leave."

Harry bit his lip to stop him saying something that wouldn't have been all that smart, or good for his health. He left.

Outside the library the three groups split up. "This isn't over yet," Harry muttered, watching his sister and her friends head off.

Hermione snapped her book closed. "Well, I'll see you two later, I suppose. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this puzzle eventually." She looked in the direction the girls had gone, and Harry glimpsed a hint of betrayal in her eyes.

He nodded. "Thatcher can't hide his secret forever, whatever it is." He looked pointedly at his best friend. "D'you believe me _now, _Ron?"

The boy shrugged. "I'll help you out, if that's what you mean. Dunno if I believe it yet; it's still not very likely. Now let's go play some Quidditch. Trials are in a week, and it'd be wicked if I could do a Fideli Save by then."

Ten minutes later, Hermione was sitting up in her special room, telling Tom what had happened since she'd last written to him.

_That's very interesting, Hermione, _the boy wrote. _I really do feel for you. I was the school outcast when I went to Hogwarts. It's not a very pleasant experience._

_The worst thing isn't being shunned, though, _Hermione wrote back, already starting to feel better. _It's the pity that you get. I hate it. Ginny treats me like that a lot of the time…but I could stand it. But now I find out that she's been spying on me! It's not fair!_

_Shh. It's okay. _The writing managed to make itself look comforting. _I'll always be here if you need to talk, Hermione Granger. I'll always be around if you want to pour your feelings into me._

_Thanks, Tom. That's reassuring. _It was. Hermione could actually feel the loneliness draining out of her, leaving a strange emptiness that was both foreign and comforting.

_Now, tell me more about this Tobias Thatcher fellow…_

000

I got up, graded essays, took classes, chatted with the staff, ate food, terrorized students and had the occasional Decagon meeting. At some point in those hectic days I managed to get more acquainted with the school that had once been my home, run with Wolf (in the Room of Requirement, as we couldn't go to the Forbidden Forest), practice my wand work that I'd become so rusty at, and generally moan about being in another dimension with no clear way of getting back to my world. Those self-pitying sessions seemed to be getting fewer and farther between, though. I was still sure that the Wizarding world had no chance of survival if they turned to me, but I was also knew that my best bet for my _own _survival was to stay around people who had knowledge and who gave me a reasonable amount of trust.

Time passed, as it often does.

It was interesting to see the differences and similarities of the people in this world and my own. Most of them, I noticed, had only one or two variations in their personalities. Moody was more gung ho, Dumbledore more superstitious and faithful, Remus less mature and accepting, Sirius far less haunted, and Severus less…well…screwed up. Ron and Hermione seemed to act much as they had in my Hogwarts, though I was a little worried that they didn't seem to be friends. My alter ego…well, I didn't like his cocky attitude, but at least he wasn't as bad as I had been in sixth year. The Slytherins seemed pretty similar, though Draco wasn't as arrogant. Luna, I was glad to see, hadn't changed a bit. Ginny hadn't changed much either, except that she seemed a little sweeter, perhaps, than she had been in my world.

And then there was Allison. My sister — or at least she might have been.

It still shocked my senses to think about her. I had never imagined that my parents would have another child, though if I had actually paused to think about things I would have realised that there was at least a possibility.

I would have liked to get to know her better, but the only legitimate reason to get her alone was to give her Detention, and I doubt that would make her kindly disposed toward me. Added to that, the persona I'd chosen for myself wasn't exactly the friendliest. I was starting to regret that now. Sure, it got the students to work, but they worked just as hard with Remus teaching them, and _he _definitely didn't subscribe to my methods. Wolf told me to shut up and stop fretting when I talked to him. _You've made your choice, and you can't change it now, so be quiet and let me sleep! If you have to worry, at least make it something you can do something about. _Well, that was a fine and noble aspiration and all, but rather hard when there were so little things that I had full control over.

Actually, it surprised me that, though my days were filled to the brim with work in those first few weeks of being a teacher, I still had enough time to feel…sort of empty…at the lack of any life-threatening incidents popping up. It was certainly a change from not too long ago, when I had been tortured regularly, and before that, when I had been doing crazy stunts for the Vipers even more regularly. My ever so optimistic personality was sure that problems would appear not to far away, however, what with my being brought to the world to "argue with heavens" and "bespeak with demons".

So it wasn't such a surprise when, on the twenty-third of September, I went to breakfast in the Great Hall, said pleasantries to my associates, ate a bagel, snarked with Severus, picked up my copy of _The_ _Daily Prophet _and read the horror that graced the front cover.

_HOGSMEAD RAIDED _

_20 confirmed deaths. Officials demand answers; Minister calls for all to stay calm. Misha Desserton reports._

We had all just received our _Prophet _with the incoming owl-post, and I watched in apprehension as students paid the owls and turned their attention to the paper, staring in shock at the sight in front of them. A picture was below the headline, showing the main road of Hogsmead. There was an injured man in the foreground, and a mediwizard helping him up. Behind them a few dying embers burnt, and at the very edge of the picture, almost out of view, a flag blew. My heart sank; it was instantly recognisable, even if the black and white photograph didn't show the red and green that swirled together. It was the sign of the Vipers.

Dumbledore hadn't come to breakfast. I'd wondered about that, but now I knew the reason why.

I turned to look at my colleagues, and locked gazes with Remus. His expression was grim, and I mirrored it almost perfectly. I could sense another Decagon meeting coming up very soon.

Next to Remus, Sirius sat, furious. "Those bastards," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the newspaper.

I quickly read the article. Two-hundred unidentified persons, presumed to be Vipers, had charged Hogsmead and taken everything of value. Not counting the deceased people, thirty-one had serious, critical injuries and ninety-six were suffering from some sort of broken bone, cut, bruise or unpleasant hex.

_Bartender Madam Rosmerta, of the Three Broomsticks (a popular Hogsmead bar), believes that the attacks were lead by a tall woman with black hair who uses the pseudonym "Deathbell"._

I grimaced: that was the name Bellatrix had wanted to be known by whenever she tortured me. So, that brainless psycho was a head honcho with the Vipers. Wonderful.

"Someone should talk to the students soon," I said, turning to Severus. "They'll get hysterical if they think we're not in control of the — Severus?"

Snape's eyes hadn't left the paper, his gaze locked on a sentence a bit lower than the one I'd just read. "Fileriuscharm," he murmured.

"Huh?" I asked. "What's that?"

The man glared at me. "Thatcher, Filerius charms are part of the standard sixth year syllabus. You truly are ignorant if…oh." His eyes lost their fire, and he sighed deeply. "Your pardon. I keep forgetting that you really had no idea about any of this until you came here."

"S'okay," I said, embarrassed. I hoped fervently that Snape would never discover the gross amount of spells I had just never bothered to learn in sixth year. "But what _is _a Fineries charm?"

"It is…it was a spell originally created for parents to make sure that, when they weren't supervising their children, the pests were where they were supposed to be. To carry it out, you first have to chart out an area, and then link that area to your child — though you could link the spell to any object, really. It is then a simple matter to say the spell, and you will find out if your child is inhabiting the desired place."

"Er, okay…" I really didn't see how this was relevant to the current situation.

"But the charm was quickly picked up by the WHAM — Wizards' and Witches' Association of Military, a force consisting of the Aurora, Intelligence agents, front-line troops, hired grunts and even muggle soldiers — because it was impossible to deceive. Its brother charm — Valores — was previously used, but as it was tied to the conscious mind it would give inaccurate readings if you were to, say, fall asleep."

"But if Fineries could be linked to any object, then with a human it would be tied to the body, right?" I said. "So you couldn't cheat it." I was beginning to see where this was going.

Snape nodded. "Yes. Even if you were dead, Fineries would still be able to tell if you were in the charted area." He pointed at the newspaper article. "Paragraph eleven."

000

James Potter paced the confines of his study, secretary at his heels.

"Why?" he asked a nearby wall angrily. "Why would the Vipers even bother to capture our soldiers stationed at Hogshead? What would be the point?"

"Perhaps for hostage purposes?" his secretary asked timidly.

James shook his head decisively. "The WHAM never pay for their captured soldiers, and the citizens of Hogshead would make much better hostages anyway. There is a limit to the Viper's Poisons' stupidity." He did an about-turn and strode up the other direction.

"They could be trying to get inside information," he muttered, "but the soldiers they took were on the bottom rung of the military ladder. They'd only know trivial things. And…I suppose they could be trying to send a message to me that they are in control of everything, but…oh, I don't know." He sat at his desk and exhaled loudly. "Send a message to Albus Dumbledore to meet with me as soon as possible," he told his secretary. The woman nodded and left the room.

_Things used to be so much simpler… _

He poured himself some wine ("It's nine in the morning. Why not.") and stared blindly at the papers strewn across his desk.

"Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail," he murmured. "I wish you guys were here."

Silence, then his eyes focused and, in one gulp, James drained the wine.

_Okay, back to work. For all I know, those ruddy Vipers are probably connecting the soldiers to the ley lines and sending them down to hell as a gift to Salazar and his pet basilisk._

000

As it turned out, the Viper's Poison had a much simpler reason for kidnaping the thirty or so enemy soldiers.

"…A public execution?" Tonks asked distastefully.

Tezz nodded, looking glum. "That's what Bellatrix said, and she rarely lies about something she enjoys."

The two friends were milling in the big, open room that was once used for practice drills. There were about fifty Vipers around the edges of the hall, and in the centre were the soldiers that had been guarding Hogshead, immobilization curses placed on them.

"But — but — why should we have to watch? They've never made us do anything like this before." Tonks glared at her shoes. "I'm a spy, not an assassin. I don't…like…seeing people die."

"Innocence is the p-price that must be paid for freedom."

Tonks' eyes widened and she attempted to swirl around, didn't quite make it, and fell on the ground. She quickly sprang up, blushing from ear to ear.

"Commander Jayden," she said respectfully, bowing and just managing to stop herself falling over again.

He nodded, keeping his gaze locked on the ground. "It is s-strange that there are still Vipers who cannot deal with death," he said softly. "If you're alive, then of course you're going to die. Why does it m-m-matter when?"

Tonks shifted nervously. Jayden was unpredictable at the best of times, and when he disagreed with you there was no telling whether he'd laugh or chop a few fingers off your wand hand. Or both.

She was lucky, though. Jayden only smiled hesitantly at her, reminding Tonks once again of a schoolboy.

"But I s-s-suppose there are still lessons that need to be learnt. That _is _why mother asked me to do this, a-after all. Now," he said, still smiling, "step back, please." He brought out his wand and said a spell too soft for Tonks to hear, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the soldiers from Hogshead getting up. Jayden must have released their spell, she realised.

"You are going to die very soon," he told the men and women. "You have your wands, and may defend yourselves. You now have hope, though you are wrong in thinking I have given you a gift. Goodbye."

Five minutes later, all that was left of the enemy soldiers was blood.

Jayden walked back to Tonks, who stared right through him, unseeing.

"Innocence is the price that must be paid for freedom," he repeated. "And hope is useless."

000

Short 'n' depressing, huh? Next chapter, things actually start to happen! (Hint: diary, basilisk.)

In my opinion, the biggest problem in this story is the constant shift between fluffily happy and way too angsty. But honestly, I can't really help it. I suppose when I eventually get a beta he or she will be able to fix up the myriad errors I have.

Oh, and did anyone catch the short CoS quote? A cyber-cookie for anyone who did!


	18. Chapter 15

Wow. That was…a long wait for such a small chapter. Actually, at one stage I didn't know if I was ever going to write more of this story, and it was only today and yesterday that I stopped being lazy and wrote the majority of this chapter. Um…I'm really sorry, because there's probably a lot of people who can't remember much because they've been waiting so long. But I really do want to finish this, partly because it would be really mean if I stopped just when things were getting interesting (and they do get interesting in this chapter) and partly because it would give me a sense of closure, seeing as this is the first long piece of writing I've ever written.

Oh, and with the beta thing: I will only get one when (um, if?) I finish the fic, so thank you for your offers but I will have to say no for the moment. Sorry… :(

**Chapter 15: October 1 **

**9:15 pm**

For the first time since they had brought Thatcher into their world, Severus was feeling distinctly uneasy about things.

"We should have told Tobias," Lily said, worried. "I feel wrong not letting him know. We're making him do so much, and now we're telling secrets behind his back. It's not right."

"Things aren't always right in the world, lass," Moody growled, magical eye swirling around crazily. "But this is for the good of the wizarding world. Sacrifices must be made."

"I can hardly see how it would be _good_ for the wizarding world for us not to include its Saviour in a vitally important meeting," Snape said snidely. "Potentially life-threatening, yes. But 'good'? Somehow, I don't think so."

"Oh _Sev'rus_, ligh'en up," Zabini said, leaning on an ornate lampshade, face flushed from one too many complimentary beverages. "Does it really mat—" _hic_ "—matter? I'm _sure _you'll all let him know how it went, in any case. After all, your bonds with the boy run _deep._"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Snape hissed.

"Oh, come now, my friend, you don' have to hide it. I've seen the way you look at each other. I can sense _love _from a mile away." He swooned, and Severus had to use every inch of his self-control to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that long, thin neck and snapping it like a twig.

"Now now, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "we're all friends here. Lemon drop?"

"_Albus, _I will partake of your de—" _hic _"—delicious sweets, if you wou' be so _kind_." Zabini tried to reach the sweets, but overbalanced and fell hard on the ground. He moaned pitifully. Snape found it hard to dredge up any fellow feeling.

"If the idiot can't even stay upright, he shouldn't be in this meeting," Moody said viciously.

"I —_ow_— I'll be good, I swear," Zabini said, trying to lift himself from the ground. "Wait, swearin's bad. I — I give my _word_. 'nyway, I'm sure tha' t'was not my fault I fell. Now is there any more of that punch?"

"Matthew," Dumbledore said gently, "I think it might be best if you sat this meeting out. I will certainly fill you in on what happened tomorrow.

"Oh." Zabini looked like an abused puppy. "Um, okay then. Sorry…about the bother…" He levered himself off the ground and staggered out the door, before obviously remembering that they were not in the usual place where Decagon meetings were held.

Dumbledore gave him a portkey and smiled at him encouragingly. "This will take you to right outside my office. Have a nice night, Matthew."

The deranged lunatic's eyes watered. "You are so _kind, _Albus! After ruining your meeting you _still _have nice words to say to me. This is _truly _the si_—" hic —_"truly the sign of great leadership! I shall tell this story to my descendents every Christmas eve, the story of Commander Albus Dumbledore, who is kind to all an—"

Mercifully, it was this moment that Dumbledore activated the portkey and saved Zabini from the homicidal witches and wizards, Severus included.

Minerva massaged her temples. "Albus, that man is a menace. He continually disrupts our meetings with his posing and outrageous comments."

"Matthew has a good heart," Dumbledore replied. "He truly does care about the fate of the Wizarding World. He's just…a little exuberant in his display of that."

_And it doesn't hurt that he has a huge supply of magic, does it? _Snape thought sardonically.

"Could we possibly get to the real reason for this meeting?" Flitwick asked, looking slightly annoyed, or as annoyed as he could get while levitating in order to see over the table.

"Of course, Filius." The Commander's gaze turned serious. "Now, as I'm sure you are all aware, this is my ancestral home. I brought you here because, unlike Hogwarts, the wards allow us unlimited magic and do not let anyone in unless I have accepted them."

"I still don't see why Thatcher could not be included," Snape muttered.

"Because this meeting is about him," Dumbledore explained. "I am concerned that he does not seem to want to save the Wizarding world, given that he is the prophesied Redeemer. I have grave fears that he will try to get back to his own world and leave ours abandoned. Are there any suggestions as to keeping him here?"

Snape watched the others talk around him and sneered. He wanted to say, _you're suffocating him with all your expectations, _but Dumbledore already knew and the others wouldn't understand. "It isn't that he doesn't want to save this world; he just doesn't think himself able," he said instead, and sighed at the incredulous looks he received. This was going to be a long night.

**1 hour, 45 minutes earlier**

Draco trudged down the corridor to the Trophy Room of Hogwarts, gritting his teeth and devising torture methods for his current enemies.

"Stupid," he muttered. "Stupid stupid stupid. Damn Peeves. Damn Thatcher. _Damn Potter._" The stupid four-eyes actually hadn't, for once, been the cause of his imminent detention, but Draco felt that his mere _existence _was more than enough to send him into a spiral of bad luck.

It wasn't _his _fault that the Slytherins' supply of butterbeer had run out early (well, not _entirely _his fault) and it was entirely unfair that he, out of every fifth, sixth and seventh year, had picked the exploding card, and thus had to go and retrieve more of the drink. It was preposterous that Peeves should see him just before he entered the kitchens to bully the house elves, and gleefully holler, "Ickle Dragon out of smelly dungeons at night! Gelly Dragon _out of bed, oh yes he is!_"

It was absolutely unforgivable that Professor Thatcher should be the one to creep up behind him and scare him out of his wits before giving him a detention, expression graced with even more unholy amusement than Peeves', if that were possible.

Draco scowled. He didn't know what to think about Thatcher: one minute he was prancing about with less sanity than Professor Zabini, the next he was deadly serious and teaching you what he claimed was a valuable survival method. He was completely unpredictable, which frustrated Draco to the point of near insanity. And it just _wasn't fair_, the way that Thatcher always seemed to know what _Draco _was thinking.

He came to the Trophy Room, knocking angrily on the door before swinging it open. His eyes caught onto Thatcher first, sitting on a dusty chair in his ugly muggle jacket with his ugly muggle boots propped up on a huge Quidditch trophy, reading a book. He glanced up at Draco and quirked an eyebrow.

"Evening, Mr. Malfoy. Is it normal for you to be fifteen minutes late for a detention?"

Draco scowled again and was about to reply when someone said, "I bet Malfoy was scared. He gets terrified by just about anything, Professor. No courage is one of the Slytherins' best qualities."

"_Potter,_" Draco hissed, turning to his rival. "What are _you _doing here?"

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes and gestured to his bucket and cloth. "Oh, I don't know. Hanging out with Professor Thatcher? He's such a cool guy, after all."

Said Professor grinned. "I'm flattered, Mr. Potter. But as much as your declaration makes me want to let you off the hook, I'm afraid you both have detentions to carry out." He pulled his wand from his sleeve and swished it, and Draco found himself carrying cleaning implements identical to Potter's. "Now off you go. No magical cleaning allowed; believe me, I'll know if you use it."

Draco wondered if Thatcher could react fast enough to stop a _stupefy _hitting him.

Two hours later, Draco was wondering if Thatcher could react fast enough to stop an _Avada Kedavra _from hitting him. Menial punishment had to be the cruelest form of torture ever invented. If he ever had to choose between whips and chains or polishing, he'd pick the former without a seconds' thought. With the whips and chains, you'd be in too much pain to think of anything else. Polishing, on the other hand, left you with endless time to think of better things you could be doing. It was _boring. _It made his arms want to drop off. Draco felt that he could recite each and every name on the trophies in any order he wished.

"Are we done yet?" Draco said, not caring at that stage that he was whining, and saw Potter look up hopefully. To his annoyance, the Gryffindor seemed in slightly better shape than he was.

Professor Thatcher cast his gaze around the Trophy room and smiled. "Thank you, boys," he said. "Mr. Filch will be most pleased with this."

Sighing in relief, Draco dropped the bucket and cloth and was about to leave the room when Thatcher said languidly, "Stop, Mr. Malfoy. I don't think I said you could go yet. I still have to make an inspection of the Trophies."

Potter snickered and Draco growled, fingering his wand. Oh, how he wanted to curse the two idiots. A quick volley of body-binds; they wouldn't know what hit —

"Mr. Malfoy, if you keep thinking mutinous thoughts I'll have to confiscate your wand."

Draco swore under his breath — how the hell did Thatcher always _know? _— and sullenly followed the man on his "inspection". The Professor was smiling slightly, enjoying his students' discomfort. Sadistic bastard.

"Good," he said, tapping the trophies as he passed them. "This is a good job, Messrs. Potter and Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin and Gryffindor. At this rate, I might employ you as _why the hell did you clean this one?_" Draco and Potter took a step back. Thatcher's expression was no longer amused; the calm veneer had fallen off him to reveal blatant hostility. Draco had never seen him with such an expression on his face. He looked…dangerous.

"Um, you told us to clean them all, Professor," Potter answered nervously. Draco leaned to the right slightly to read the writing, and made out the words _T. M. Riddle: Special Servic _before Thatcher flicked his wand out of his sleeve and poked it angrily at the trophy, murmuring a spell too soft to hear. The Slytherin was about to ask what he thought he was doing, but when the trophy melted before his eyes he thought the question might be a bit redundant.

"Hey, you can't do that!" Potter exclaimed. "That's school property!"

"I'm sure the Headmaster would commend my actions," the Professor said absently. His eyes never left the bubbling pile of goo that had once been T. M. Riddle's trophy, and Draco shivered at the wide, insane grin that briefly flit across his face. "Nearly as good as the real thing," he whispered, almost too soft to hear. Draco wasn't sure he'd heard right. What real thing? The real person?

"Why?" Potter demanded, eyes glittering with curiosity. "Why would he commend you? Was it cursed or something?"

"Or do you have something against a T. M. Riddle?" Draco asked softly.

Thatcher's gaze swung over to Draco, and the boy took a step back. For the first time, he was truly afraid of the Divination Professor, who was still smiling, looking as though it would take the slightest thing for him to jump forward and rip out his student's throat. "I suppose you could say that," he murmured. Then he blinked, and the deranged serial killer look was gone, replaced by a confused expression. He blinked again, and this time Draco saw fear.

"Er, sir?" Potter asked. "What was that?"

What was what? Draco looked around, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Sir?" Potter asked again, more urgently. "What was that, that I heard?"

"Something that shouldn't be here," Thatcher said grimly, pulling out what looked like a mirror from his pocket. "Boys, _stay here. _Do not leave this room until I come to get you." He started heading for the door.

"Hey, you can't just leave without telling me anything!" Potter said angrily, following the Professor. "What the hell is with that voice? Are you even listening to me?"

Thatcher didn't answer; just opened the door and strode out. Potter was about to run after him, but the Professor pointed his wand at the door and said, "_Ellegrio," _then slammed it shut.

"What's going on here?" Draco asked after a few seconds of watching Potter with his ear to the door. "One minute Thatcher's gone all psychotic on me, the next you're arguing about some imaginary voice."

"You didn't hear it?" Potter asked in surprised.

"Didn't hear _what_?" Draco said, frustrated.

"It was…it sounded like a man, but I couldn't really be sure. His voice sounded like ice…" The boy glanced at Draco and snorted. "Could've been your dad, Malfoy."

Normally, a comment like that would have earned the worst curse Draco had yet learnt, but this time he let it pass. "Shut up, you bastard." Well, mostly. "What did he…it…say?"

"It wanted to kill," Potter said. "_Let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…_" His expression hardened. "And I'm going to find it before it kills someone."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potter, even if you're telling the truth, we can't even get out of this room. Thatcher used one of the most powerful locking spells around. There's no way _you _could break the spell."

To his surprise, Potter grinned. "Yeah, of course not. But for a locking spell to work, the door has to be shut first." He looked down, and Draco followed his gaze.

Wedged in the door was the cleaning cloth Potter had used.

Draco blinked. That was almost…Slytherin. Not like he'd ever tell Potter that.

"Well, Malfoy? You coming?"

Draco took a step back. "Are you insane? I value my survival, Potter, and if Thatcher tried to keep us in here, there's definitely a reason for it."

"Fine," Potter sniffed. "Be a coward. I'll be the one getting a trophy for bravery, and you'll be the one cleaning it, alone in an unlocked room where a murdurer could come by at any time. Nice knowing you." He left, a faint swagger in his step.

…It wasn't long before Draco caught up with him, glaring and muttering faint curses under his breath. Potter grinned, not bothering to say anything. It was obvious who'd won that round.

000

"Dumbledore," I said urgently to the communication mirror, striding in the direction of his office. "Albus, come in, this is urgent. _Albus._"

"_Hello, valued member of the Decagon_," came the cheerful sound of Dumbledore on the other end, though the screen remained blank. "_I am in an important meeting right now, and have left my communicator at the school. If it is a life or death situation, please call for my phoenix, Fawkes, and he will send your message to me. Otherwise, I apologise sincerely that I could not be around. Have a nice life_."

"…Fuck," I said succinctly, coming to a halt. Okay, so there was now a bloodthirsty basilisk slithering around the school, and Dumbledore wasn't around to stop it. Well, time to try the next on the list, then.

"Severus," I snapped.

Snape's bored, slightly distant voice sounded. "_I'm not here at the moment, and whatever it is, I'm sure you can deal with it yourself. Go away_."

"Lily?" I asked desperately.

"_I'm sorry, but I can't answer at the moment. However, I'll be sure to get back to you as soon as possible."  
_

Had the Decagon all left the school for something without telling me? Well if the timing wasn't just fucking _perfect. _I growled, turned and bumped into Matthew Zabini.

"Tobias, _mon ami_!" He clutched at me, and I smelt alcohol on his clothes. "It's _terrible_! I was being my usual charming self when _suddenly _the chair flew from under me and I fell to the ground. _Look!" _He gestured at his face and I could make out the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek. "I suspect _conspiracy. _There must be someone with a vendetta against me!"

_Yeah, sure. _"Look, I don't have time for this," I said. "There's an emergency. The whole school might be in danger."

Matthew's eyes went wide. "_Danger?" _

I started pulling the man up a staircase. "Yeah." Now, where could that stupid snake be? If only I could hear him again, but knowing my luck, it wouldn't be that easy…

"_Rip, tear, kill…come to me…let me kill you…_"

But perhaps my luck had turned! I let go of Matthew and dashed up the rest of the stairs two at a time. "Come on, hurry up!" I shouted down to the man. He could be helpful.

"_Of course_! I will help you rid the school of all evil, my dear friend!"

We ran down the corridor, and I cursed myself for forgetting about the basilisk's presence. How stupid could I get? I'd been so wrapped up in enjoying being around so many no-longer-dead people that I'd forgotten to concentrate. I was _pathetic. _

_You can't hold all the blame, _wolf said. _It is also my fault. I'd been so happy to come out of that dark place that I was careless. It won't happen again._

_It wasn't your fault, _I argued.

_It was, at least in part._

Then the parsletongue came again. _"…so hungy…for so long…kill…time to kill…"_

I shuddered, and ran even faster. The voice seemed much louder than before, and I realised that I was heading in the direction of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "No…"

"…_I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!"_

"NO!" I flew up the staircase to the second floor, Matthew trailing a bit behind. Every second seemed to last forever, though it was probably only one or two minutes before I rounded the corner and saw what I had been dreading.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HIER, BEWARE.

Underneath the words written in blood was Mrs. Norris, and this time there was no flood for her to see a reflection from. She was undeniably dead.

I swore and leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. Too late, once again.

Matthew rounded the corner and took in the sight with wide eyes. "Tobias, what...?"

Who the hell had the diary this time? Ginny? It was possible, even likely…but how could she have only got it now? Lucius Malfoy was in hiding with the Viper's Poison, wasn't he? It wasn't like he could have strolled into Diagon Alley and suavely slipped it into her bag. And the students had stayed at Hogwarts over the summer, anyway.

I needed some answers. Mind made up, I turned to the man beside me.

"Matthew." He looked up at me, distressed. "This is very important. Do you know anything about Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary?"

He looked confused. "Who is Tom Marvolo Riddle? Why would I know anything about his diary?"

I took a deep breath. "Because you're Snake, Matthew. I know about you and the Viper's Poison."

I had expected him to freeze, then put a knife to my neck and question me, but he had always been unpredictable. As the _stupefy _hit me and I fled to the realm of unconsciousness, I mused that, unlike most of the people I knew from my past world, Matthew Zabini hadn't changed one bit.

000

A few minutes later Draco and Potter rounded the same corner and saw the sign written in blood. Draco's eyes widened. "The Chamber of Secrets," he murmured, but was startled out of his trance when Potter gasped.

"Look! Is that — it's Mrs. Norris!"

Draco stepped closer and took in the sight of the dead cat, its eyes wide with terror. He wondered vaguely what could have made her so terrified without putting a scratch on her — _Avada Kedavra _was the most likely — but then the full reality of the situation hit him.

"We have to get out of here," he said. "Before someone else comes."

"Why?" Potter looked confused.

"Potter, if someone comes here and sees us standing over a dead cat with no one else in sight in a time when we have curfew and are supposed to be in bed, you know what they'll think?"

It didn't take a genius to follow that line of thought. "Are you saying they'll think we did it?" Potter asked dubiously. "That doesn't seem right. We can just say we had detention with Professor Thatcher."

"Are you _stupid? _Why would two people who are known to be enemies be strolling through the Hogwarts corridors together? The Slytherin common room sure isn't this way, and I'd be willing to bet that the Gryffindor one isn't either."

"But my dad's the Minister of Magic; he wouldn't let anything happen to me!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "That won't save you if Filch shows up, and it won't save you if whatever was here comes back. Now come _on._" Merlin knew he hated Potter, but if he died Draco would be the one taking the blame.

Potter looked ready to argue, but then the fight seemed to go out of him and he nodded. "Fine, whatever." He stepped forward, then quickly stepped back as something crunched underfoot. Draco looked down and saw what looked like a broken mirror.

"Hey," Potter said slowly, "isn't that what Thatcher was holding before he left the Trophy Room...?"

There was a moment of silence, then the two boys looked up at each other, expressions of fear gracing both faces. Without argument, they both hurried back to their respective common rooms.

000

After the meeting, Snape followed Dumbledore back into the Headmaster's office, irate. "You can't be serious, Commander!" he exclaimed. "The way to get Thatcher's compliance is to _trust _him, and to show that you trust him. Blackmailing him by threatening to take away his Animagus form is going to be counterproductive and he will _lose all respect he had for you!" _He took a deep breath, ready to launch into another tirade, but then he noticed that Dumbledore was standing unnaturally still. "Albus?" he asked.

"It seems that we no longer have to worry about things like that, Severus," Dumbledore said faintly, his eyes fixed on his desk.

Snape followed his gaze and blinked, unable to comprehend what he was reading. Then everything seemed to rush towards him and he was staggering, leaning on the wall for support.

The words were written in an elegant black script, on a common form of parchment, and they said "_We have the Redeemer, Tobias Thatcher. VP"_.

000

Whoa, and the first big secret is revealed. Who guessed that Matthew Zabini was Snake? I know that some reviewers did – sorry that I wasn't able to answer you, but I wanted to keep things a secret.

I've decided to stop doing the reply-to-reviews-in-livejournal, simply because I don't think anyone's reading them. Instead, I'll give you email-review-response things, and I'm really sorry if you're not registered to and didn't leave your email adress.


	19. Chapter 16

**Æternus Praestolatio**

**The Last Chapter, Apologies, Thankyous**

Heya. I have a small (about 2500 word) last chapter here as a sort of going away present, because I thought I should at least reveal another Big Secret before properly saying goodbye to this fic.

To kind of repeat what I've written on my profile:

To anyone I've let down by not finishing Æternus Praestolatio, I'm really, truly sorry, and also pretty disappointed with myself. At the time, I kept putting off updating partly because I had what felt like a ton of homework (though now that I'm in my final year, I don't know what I was whining about) and also because truthfully, I was getting bored with the fic. Then the gap between updates got bigger and bigger, and eventually I couldn't remember the story with perfect accuracy as I once had.

Recently I read over the story again, and I was a bit surprised at the...shoddiness of the writing -- not so much the spelling or grammar, more the storytelling and approach to the scenes (though, when I think about it, isn't actually that surprising, seeing as when the majority of this was written I was 14...). To fix it up, it wouldn't be as easy as just handing the fic to a Beta and giving them puppy dog eyes; I'd have to give it a huge overhaul, which would take a lot of time for something I wouldn't particularly enjoy doing.

In some ways I'm very proud of this fic. It is so far the only novel-length story I've ever written (though hopefully not the only one I'll ever write) and I've learnt a hell of a lot from it. My only regret is that I doubt it will ever be finished. Though...**if anyone wants to take it up and continue with it, they are absolutely welcome. Just email me and I'll send you my notes saying where I would have taken the story, and the secrets that have not yet been revealed. **Think seriously if you want to take it up, though, because I've estimated that I'm only just over half way through.

I don't think this is the end for me and fanfiction -- I still love reading it, and I've still got fic ideas stewing in the back of my mind -- but in terms of Æternus... Well. It's been a fun ride, guys. Thanks for your unending support and positive reviews, and even the negative ones, because they made me laugh. When I started to get bored, it was your reviews (uh, not the negative ones) that made me go back to the computer and type. And not just reviewers: thank you to every single person who has ever clicked the link to my fic, even if it was to glance at the poem at the front and say, "My god, how pretentious." And to the people who thought it was a bit of alright.

Just...thank you, so much.

So see you round some time, yeah? Cheers.

**Æternus Praestolatio**

**Chapter 16 **

"_Tobias, time to wake up." _

I groaned and stuffed my head under the pillow. "Later," I said, voice muffled. The bed was lumpy and familiar, and the faint smells of mildew and slow _drip, drip _of water were reminding me that I'd better get as much sleep as possible, because very soon I'd be doing more possibly life threatening missions for the Vipers.

"To-_bi_-as."

Damn; that tone meant that there was something important Matthew wanted to talk about, likely related to the Death Eaters. I sighed — I never got enough sleep at Base — and lifted the pillow from my head to glare sleepily at…

I blinked, and for a moment felt quite disorientated, seeing someone my age when I'd expected him to be near ten years older. Then my newer memories caught up with my older ones — chamber dead cat Matthew Snake kidnap Decagon.

"Um," I said. "Hey, Matthew." So the Vipers had sent their best spy to gather information from the prophesied saviour. I wondered how this interrogation would go.

He smiled at me. "Did you have a nice rest?"

"Wonderful, thanks." I cast my gaze over the room and realised it was the same one I'd used in the old world. "Your décor is quite…original." That was an understatement. I'd first chosen this room because it had reminded me of a torture chamber; the pattern of stones on the wall seemed to have been made to resemble thousands of people screaming in terror. I was quite a morbid little boy back then, what with almost all the people I loved being killed and all.

"We try."

It was probably used for prisoners now.

"Anyway, Tobias, I'd love to stay, but unfortunately there's some people who'd like to have a little chat with you. If you don't mind, of course."

Ah, so Matthew wasn't the interrogator after all, just the messenger boy. I shrugged. "Sure, bring them in." I wondered who it would be. Bellatrix, I was sure, would love to come and torture all my information out of me, but hopefully the other leaders of the Vipers would favour a more subtle approach. I wasn't interested in fighting at that moment; much more information could be gained through conversation and mind games.

And that _was _one of the big reasons I'd decided to get kidnapped here: information gathering. Of course, I'd expected Matthew to give me enough time to find the diary and kill the basilisk — had even hoped he would know something about it all, since he was certainly the best spy I'd ever met, and it wouldn't be a surprise if he'd already known both the owner of the diary and the location of the Chamber of Secrets. Which I now doubted he did, because if so then he surely would have realised the gravity of the situation and helped me out. I'd seen Matthew kill Death Eaters (and even Vipers, sometimes) in cold blood, but he didn't have it in him to do the same to children. Especially not when his sister was a potential victim.

He smiled apologetically at me, sincerity seemingly beaming from every pore. "Sorry, Tobias, but I've been asked to take _you_ to _them_. Don't worry — it's not far, and I'll even take you on a little tour of the base on your way over."

Matthew's words might have seemed innocent, but I felt a chill just hearing them. He wanted to take me to _that _room, the one that killed and/or tortured you if you didn't tell the truth. My world's Viper's Poison had used it to weed out spies, Death Eaters and general mentally unhinged people around us (and there were far more of the latter than the former two). Would I let myself be led to such a room? Not bloody likely.

"Well, I'm still quite tired, so I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you." I yawned.

"Unfortunately, Tobias, it's not. I'd hate for my employers to be angry with me."

I grew tired of our fake sincerity. "Well, _I'd _hate to be tortured senseless in the Control Room. So sorry, but your _employers _will have to come here."

Matthew's smile grew flinty, and I mused that I must have truly surprised or annoyed him for his emotions to be shown so plainly. "Oh, _mon ami, _you seem to be under the impression that you have a choice. I'm _so _sorry to tell you this, but you really don't."

"Oh, I'd say I do." I examined my fingernails, and thought, _Wolf. Now. _I felt my animagus' assent, and the wolf's senses merged with mine, just in time to avoid a curse coming at my head. I couldn't help smirking at the man, and playfully dodged a trio of what seemed like obscenely slow spells. This close to him, I could hear Matthew's heart beating wildly it his chest, see the light hair on his right arm ripple as he waved his wand, smell the slight sweat on his forehead and something lighter, something individual to him that I recognised as the scent of magic. It was wonderful. I would have stayed that way forever, but for the wicked headaches and my weakness to extremely loud sounds or strong smells. The Matthew of my world had known those weaknesses and used them to his advantage in our practice matches. He'd not be so lucky this time.

I ducked a particularly nasty burn curse, and saw him reach into his coat pocket for what I was sure was a Blind Ball, another ingenious invention care of the Weasley twins that created a brief flash of blinding light for all but the one who set it off. It was a good idea; I couldn't dodge his attacks if I couldn't see them. Unfortunately for Matthew, I wasn't going to give him enough time to set it off.

Merging almost completely with wolf, nearly to the point of changing into my animagus form, I lunged at Matthew and hurled him into a wall before he'd even had time to _think _of reacting. "I don't need wand or weapons to be a danger, Matthew," I murmured into the man's ear, before striking his temple with enough force to knock him unconscious for a minute or two. Looking up at him, I saw his unreadable eyes cloud over; and then he went limp, sliding down the wall.

_You can go back now, wolf, _I said to the animagus, who sighed in relief and retreated to the back of my mind. I winced at the force of the headache and fought the urge to go and sleep for a few days. Instead, I crouched down next to Matthew and started rifling through his pockets, pulling out his wand, weapons and gadgets from the twins and acquiring them for myself, as mine had all been taken from me. In his left wristguard was my wand, which I gleefully snatched back.

"Sorry about that, Matthew," I said softly to the man who had, along with Snape, taught me everything I knew about lying and fighting and spying. If I hadn't merged with wolf then Matthew would have wiped the floor with me; he really was that good. I felt vaguely like I'd cheated, even though Matthew himself often augmented his movements with magic. I noticed he hadn't done so this time, though. I wondered why.

Matthew twitched involuntarily, and I stepped back, wand gripped tightly in my palm. His eyes flickered open, and he levered himself off the ground.

"Well," he said slowly, "I suppose I'll go and collect my employers." He left, his posture much more cautious than I'd yet seen him in this world. It seemed I'd gained his respect.

_Not interested in fighting, hmm?_

_Shush. There are some battles that have to be fought._

000

Draco listened to Dumbledore telling the school that Professor Thatcher had temporarily left the school due to family issues and that Divination classes would be adjourned for the foreseeable future, and by the way, there had been an adverse magical reaction near the girls' bathroom on the second floor so that area would be cordoned off for the time being.

"You should eat, Draco, not mush your food into puddles of goo," Blaise said. "Just because I'm on a diet doesn't mean you have to be too. If you get any skinnier you'll weigh less than me, and that's not healthy for a boy your age."

"I'm not hungry," he muttered, looking over at the Gryffindor table and locking gazes with Potter, who looked as scared as Draco felt.

"What, have you been bitten by a Vampire or something? 'Draco Malfoy, Undead Monster'. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Well, if you stop eating, you won't be undead; you'll _actually _be dead. Maybe this not eating has stunted your growth or something. I remember when we had this bet over who'd be taller, you or Potter, but you must have stopped eating years ago because now he's miles ahead of—"

"I'M NOT HUNGRY!" Draco roared. Then he flushed an ugly red, seeing that everyone on the Slytherin table was staring at him, as were quite a few people from other houses. "See you guys in class," he muttered, before stalking away.

Blaise and Theo stared at each other. "…What the hell is his problem?" Blaise asked.

Theo's eyes narrowed. "I don't know exactly, but I'm certain it's something to do with Potter."

"Huh? Why do you think that?"

"Well, he's been glaring at him for the past ten minutes, —"

"He has?"

"—And now he's going over to talk to him."

"He WHAT?"

Draco reached the Gryffindor table, glared at the twerps surrounding Potter, then leaned in and muttered, "Potter. You. Me. Library. Now."

Potter looked for a second as though he would argue, but then visibly thought about the situation (a novel event) and nodded. Draco could feel all eyes on them as they left the Great Hall together, nary a curse or insult in sight.

"Not the Library," Potter said when they were in the corridors. "Pince has banned me from it. But we can use The Room."

"The Room?"

"The Room."

Then Draco remembered. He opened his mouth to argue, paused, and sighed. "The Room," he said glumly.

000

Matthew swore as he strode down the halls to his superiors. Could he have been any stupider? Thatcher was the Re-fucking-deemer, not some second-class amateur or Professor from Hogwarts. He came from another fucking world, knew things about the Vipers there was no fucking way he could have found out, was smart enough to steer the conversation away from himself whenever anyone brought it up, so Matthew knew fuck-all about his life back in his home world — and still Matthew had underestimated him. He'd become overconfident when he'd managed to bring the man down to base, had been elated at the thought of finally learning everything about him. But in a measly few seconds, Thatcher had managed to turn the tables so that he was in charge of everything, despite being kidnapped and up against an army of Vipers.

How had he moved so fast? It had been… inhuman. There was no doubt that he augmented his movements with magic, but Matthew could do that himself, and even then Thatcher would probably be faster than he. But… Stupid. He was underestimating him _again. _Since Thatcher came from a different world, he was not constrained by the limits of the place he had travelled to. There was no reason why he couldn't have some strange ability other than magic — or _instead of _magic, even if he carried a wand.

Thatcher was a challenge, and Matthew hated challenges. He'd worked hard so that everything came easily to him, from Potions to flying to Transfigurative Creations. He already had one thing he wasn't good at (may Occlumency forever rot in hell) and didn't want to add Figuring Out Tobias Thatcher to that list.

When he entered the control room, the Commanders were talking quietly amongst themselves. "He wouldn't come," Matthew said immediately. "Said to bring you to him."

"And you _agreed _with him?" Bellatrix exclaimed incredulously. "You're not supposed to be _courteous _to prisoners, Snake.

Matthew fought the urge to roll his eyes. The others had known what he meant as soon as he'd said it, but Bella had always been the stupid one. "You might think I'd already thought of that," he said mildly, "when I tried to beat him into some kind of submission, and he subsequently knocked me out. Look, can't you see the bruise? _Ow._" It didn't actually hurt, and he doubted there would be much of a bruise, but Bella was so much fun to tease.

"The Redeemer will obviously be more difficult to control than we first thought," Lucius said, Bellatrix glaring daggers at Matthew, "though he may still be sympathetic to our cause. He did know the hand signs, after all."

"I will talk to him," Jayden said softly, stepping forward. The other Commanders regarded him with alarm: Jayden wasn't the greatest conversationalist at the best of times, and so far as gaining the trust of Tobias Thatcher, he was most definitely _not _the best option.

Ecila stepped forward also, and a silent sigh was breathed; she was the calmness, most peaceful of the group and if anyone could stop Jayden it was his mother. "Lead the way, Matthew," she said kindly.

The walk back was uneventful, apart from Matthew bumping into the little metamorphmagus who seemed more nervous than usual — she gave a squeak and jumped back, and when she noticed Jayden her already pale face turned slightly green. She hurried away, muttering apologies and not looking anyone in the eye.

Matthew blinked — wasn't she the excitable, cheerful one who always knocked things over? Her exuberance had reminded him of Blaise. What happened to make her so frightened?

Then he saw Jayden, smiling in that disturbing way of his, and thought he might have an idea.

"We're here," he said to the others a minute later. "I'll introduce you, shall I?" He went in and saw Tobias resting on the bed, looking entirely too relaxed for someone who had just been kidnapped and thrown to the pit of Vipers. Was he asleep? But no, one eye cracked open, he yawned, and pulled himself into a seated position. "Hey, Matthew," he said, genuine warmth in his voice and Matthew decided that yes, travel between worlds had obviously driven the Redeemer completely insane. "The others here yet?"

He smiled in return — he would play Tobias' game until he had figured out the rules. "Of course, mon ami, I have brought two of my employers to your suite. Make sure you play nicely or I won't get my tour guide's bonus paycheck." Of course, it was also more fun this way. "Now, mister mysterious Tobias Thatcher, Redeemer of the World," here Thatcher flinched, "may I introduce to you my illustrious leaders, Commanders Ecila and Jayden."

He opened the door with a flourish, and noticed how Tobias' gaze immediately fastened on Jayden. Oh, and what an expression it was! Somewhere between incredulity and astonishment, shock and horror and plain confusion. He wished he had a camera with him so that he could frame that moment, take it away with him and show it at dinner parties when everyone was a bit tipsy, just to prove that Thatcher wasn't the all-knowing, in control god that everyone made him out to be.

"What the hell?" Tobias Thatcher exclaimed. "_Neville?" _

((o0o0o0o0o0o))

000

000

000

((o0o0o0o0o0o))

So, there you are, the Secret That Was Slightly Less Obvious Than "Snake", But Still Some People Figured It Out. Go you, if you did. Feel good.

And now, we have come to an end. Once again, **if anyone is seriously interested in finishing this story, please contact me.**

I'm sorry to let you guys down. I'm sorry to let myself down. But...eventually, I have to be honest with myself; I can't stay in denial all the time, and I was definitely in denial about finishing and saying goodbye to this fic. So, the biggest biggest **_BIGGEST _**thankyou...

And goodbye.

000

p.s Oh, and here is my little timeline of events, in case anyone is interested. It was quite usefull with continuity, though I probably still got some times mixed up.

November 30th, 1997. Remus is tortured, and dies.

December 8th, 1997, Weasley home attacked. Harry 17

January 11th, 1998, Harry joins Viper's Poison. Harry 17

January 24th, 2005, Harry gets caught by Voldemort. Harry 24

July 31, 2005, Harry gets sucked into alternate universe. Harry 25 in Alternate universe the day is Augus 5th, Wednesday, so that's his new birthday.

Thursday, August 13th, Harry wakes up.

Saturday, August 15th, 1997, meeting of decagon.

Sunday, August 16th, 1997, Snape meets Harry/Tobias Thatcher, Albus meets Tobias.

Tuesday, August 18th, We meet Hermione. Harry gets animagus and wand back.

Saturday, August 22th , Tobias meets Remus/Sirius.

Tuesday, 25th, Meeting of Decagon is interrupted. Attack at ministry. Tobias saves Lily and Remus. Sees dad.

Monday 31st, Party for students (ball). Lunch welcoming feast, not dinner. Students meet Tobias. Then the ball, whereing filler events occur.

Tuesday, September 1st, School starts. Tobias acts crazy; students get scared. Ally Luna Ginny, Harry Ron and Hermione: both groups get on the case. Hermione writes to Tom Riddle.

Wednesday, September 2nd , Second day. Harry, Ron and Hermione talk about Tobias/Harry, and catch Allison, Ginny and Luna spying on them.

Time passes in Tobias' PoV.

Wednesday, September 23rd, Viper raid. James' PoV, Viper massacre of WWAM soldiers.


End file.
